THE DARK OUZEL 363 



great numbers. Now and then I met a brambling, a 

 Lapp-tit, a yellow-headed wagtail, or a sedge-warbler ; 

 but the willow-warblers and bluethroats, which had been, 

 so common a week back, had nearly all disappeared. I 

 got a redwing's nest with three eggs. 



Early on the following morning we had rain, and as. 

 we crossed over to the ship to breakfast a white fog 

 covered the river ; it cleared away before noon, and we 

 had a warm sunshiny day. Boiling (who had come 

 down in Kitmanoffs steamer) and I rowed across the 

 Kureika, and we spent the day on the other side. Birds 

 were extremely numerous, and I solved some very 

 important problems. During the past week I had 

 repeatedly heard the song of a thrush with which I was 

 not acquainted, but hitherto I had never been able to get 

 a shot at the bird. This thrush was a very poor songster, 

 but he had a very splendid voice. He seldom got beyond 

 one or two notes, but in clearness and richness of tone 

 these notes were fully equal to those of the blackbird. I 

 was fortunate enough to secure a bird, which turned out 

 to be the dark ouzel. It was a female with eggs large 

 enough for a shell, so that I hoped soon to find a nest. 

 I saw several pairs flying about. At frequent intervals I 

 had also heard a short unpretentious song, not unlike 

 that of our hedge-sparrow. It came from a bird generally 

 perched aloft on the top of a high tree, from which, after 

 warbling its short song, it would dart off to another. As 

 yet I had only been able to shoot a single specimen ; this 

 time I succeeded in securing another. It was the 

 mountain hedge-sparrow. 



On the banks of the river where the Kureika joins the 

 Yenesei are islands and peninsulas clothed with willows. 

 These were nearly all covered with some feet of water, 

 so that one could squeeze a boat amongst the trees. As. 



