58 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



was shining gloriously all night, the wind was cold 

 enough to freeze the breath on one's lips. The ground 

 on the banks of the kurias was thawed and marshy, 

 but inland, round the lakes, there was much snow, and 

 most of the time I was splashing over the knees in half- 

 melted sludge. The willows in this wind-swept country 

 were so stunted and twisted that they all seemed to lie 

 along the ground in one direction from south to north, 

 as if the most prevalent gales blew down the river 

 instead of up from the sea, as indeed I afterwards heard 

 was the case. It was easy enough for a man to walk 

 into such a thicket, but it was quite another thing for 

 him to go back again, for as soon as he turned, the 

 slanting tops of the branches confronted him like fixed 

 bayonets, and held him a prisoner. You may see the 

 same device in the throat of the cuckoo-pint flower, 

 where the little flies creep into the corolla to steal the 

 honey, and then find that their retreat is cut ofl" by 

 a palisade of hairs, that springs into position behind 

 them. 



It was unfortunate that the Siberian birds did not 

 share the Siberian men's indiff"erence to time. No 

 matter how brightly the sun was shining, they went 

 to roost at midnight in the orthodox way — all, that is, 

 except a few ardent spirits who were too intent upon 

 their nuptials to take covert. Hence it was difiicult 

 to make an exact ornithological census of the place. 

 Chifi'-chaff's, red-throated pipits, bluethroats, redpolls, 

 and Lapland buntings were very common, especially 

 the former, whose chivet-chivet note could be heard 

 all night long ; and I saw two dusky ousels among the 



