158 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEl 



which turned out to be a non-breeding male of Linota 

 linaria. Wheatears and shorelarks were fairly common 

 on the dry hills on the tundra. The latter were among 

 the earliest birds to breed, and on 20th July I shot a 

 male in the pretty spotted plumage of the first summer. 

 The Lapland bunting was most abundant. When I 

 first arrived at Golchika, the males were still in song, 

 and their brief, cheery music, uttered as they soared aloft 

 and then dropped down into the willows, often gave a 

 touch of liveliness to the dreariest scenes. They had 

 also a little long-drawn call which was so high pitched 

 that it seemed to have a kind of ventriloquial property. 

 More than once I scanned the skyline for a distant 

 golden plover, only to find that I had been deceived by 

 a bunting almost at my feet. I found many nests of 

 this bird upon the tundra, but my efibrts to photograph 

 the parents feeding their young were a complete failure. 

 I hid the tent carefully, and sat with the camera 

 focussed upon a half-Hedged brood for the greater part 

 of two days, and was not able to expose a single plate. 

 The old buntings frequently adopted the waders' trick 

 of shamming a broken wing in order to draw an enemy 

 from the nest. Later on, one became heartily weary of 

 the little monotonous double note, with which, as by 

 the strokes of a tiny gong, they announced a trespass 

 on their breeding-grounds. In August, the old birds 

 went up to the higher tundra to moult, while the young 

 broods gathered into flocks and visited the neighbour- 

 hood of the balagans as confidingly as sparrows, which, 

 in the dun and brown plumage of their immaturity, at 

 a first glance they resemble. 



