The Zoologist — February, 1874. 3857 



compact order in a narrow column, the size, shape and length of 

 which, however, kept perpetually changing. As the tide rose and 

 covered the sands and "fitties" the knots congregated by thousands 

 on two small sand-banks, uncovered for some time after the rest of 

 the shore was submerged, and the tide washed the foot of the 

 embankment. With a powerful binocular I could perceive no 

 space left uncovered by birds ; the appearance was that of two dark 

 islands or banks resting on the sea; and these before the flocks 

 took flight grew darker and more crowded in appearance as their 

 many-feathered tenants drew in from the circumference towards 

 the centre. They rose at last gradually, towering upwards like a 

 column of smoke, with the roar and flicker of many thousand wings, 

 sweeping away in a long undulating dark cloud, over the gray sea, 

 to seek some distant and yet uncovered sand-bank on shore. 

 Abundant as the knot is at certain times on our Lincolnshire coast, 

 it is almost impossible to get within shooting distance of their vast 

 flocks without resorting to stratagem. A frequent, and occasionally 

 successful, plan adopted by our gunners is to lie down dressed in 

 yellow oilskin, in some slight cavity on the sands, and then to jump 

 up suddenly and fire as a flock passes over. To follow them on 

 foot is hopeless, the distances are so great, the coast stretching 

 away for miles like a sandy desert, and then there is always the 

 risk of getting surrounded by the flowing tide, a risk which even 

 the most careful and experienced gunner is liable to if he allows 

 himself to be carried away by the ardour of the chase. 



Snow Buntijig. — Nov. 17th. To-day, in a twenty-six acre stubble 

 near the embankment, was a flock of four to five hundred sriow 

 buntings, mainly immature birds, the proportion of adults being 

 about one in eight or ten. It was a beautifully bright, clear and 

 sunny day, and a prettier sight could scarce be seen than the varied 

 plumage and lively graceful gambols (for so I may express it) of 

 these little creatures. The air was alive with their musical twit- 

 terings, as they flew round and round the field, sometimes sweeping 

 close past me, chasing and toying together, dashing to and fro in 

 the most erratic manner, with many a make-believe attempt at 

 alighting, which only ended in a renewal of activity; they were 

 evidently in a most joyous and happy mood. My setter was a great 

 source of attraction ; they swept downwards over the dog's head, 

 almost brushing him with their wings, and then would burst forth 

 such a chorus of mellow tinkling music as might signify either 



