THE ZooLoGist—FEBRUARY, 1872. 2929 
we usually experience at this period. What little wind we have 
had has been from N.W. to E. This period has been charac- 
terised by an almost total absence of the usual flocks of autumnal 
migrants; these, in all probability, in consequence of the very 
favourable season for crossing the North Sea, have passed across 
this district without alighting, and we have this year first heard of 
their appearance from stations far inland and not along the coast. 
Thus there has been an almost entire absence of woodcocks, field- 
fares, redwings, goldcrested wrens and migratory blackbirds, which 
in rough weather and with adverse winds invariably alight for a few 
days or hours in our bleak east-coast marshes before proceeding 
inland to their winter haunts. Of woodcocks, often so numerous 
along this coast after heavy north or north-east gales, I have never 
even seen one, and, so far, only heard of two killed anywhere in 
this neighbourhood. Of those northern migratory birds which make 
these marshes their home throughout the winter months, as the 
hooded crow, golden plover, twilte and snow bunting, we have had 
quite average numbers, excepting the latter, which this year have 
visited us in enormous and most unusual numbers. They are at 
this time by far the most common of the smaller birds found in the 
marshes. ; 
Snow Bunting.—A most abundant species during November and 
December in the east-coast marshes. I have seen them during this 
period almost daily on the stubbles in flocks numbering many 
thousands; occasionally also on the Humber mud-flats and along 
the embankment, where they pick up small fragments of chalk and 
sand. On the 10th of November several hundreds passed me in 
the middle of the Humber, crossing to the Yorkshire side, where 
they go to feed in the salt marshes of Holderness and on the Spurn 
sand-hills. On the 2nd of December, from a single twenty-two 
acre field of oat-stubble near the embankment, I put up certainly 
not less than from five to six thousand snowflakes: the air seemed 
to be alive with their mellow musical twitterings, and the constant 
flicker of so many tiny white wings relieved against the cold gray 
sky had a most singular and beautiful effect. When walking on 
the coast on the morning of the 5th of December, I saw many 
small flocks come to land from the direction of Spurn, flying just 
above the waves. In the ‘ Field’ newspaper for December 16th, 
1871, Mr. Peter Inchbald states that the stomachs of two pairs 
of snow buntings from the Great Cotes marshes contained almost 
