3858 The Zoologist— Februarf, 1874. 



anger or surprise. Snow buntings continued to arrive in large 

 numbers up to the middle of November, at which time the un- 

 ploughed stubbles swarmed with them, and they far outnumbered 

 all our other small birds put together. On the 19th I estimated 

 one flock alone to contain one thousand birds, and saw other 

 assemblies during the day of nearly equal size. They are very fond 

 of alighting on fields of newly-sown grain, and with this brow^n 

 background are very conspicuous, as each bird invariably chooses 

 the top of a clod as a perch. They very rarely perch on bushes, — 

 indeed, this is most exceptional, — and I can only recall two 

 instances where it has fallen under ray observation, and these only 

 by individual birds and not by flocks. On the 10th of December, 

 lying concealed behind a bank in one of the pastures, the better to 

 pounce upon a trespassing gunner, some hundreds of snow buntings 

 pitched close to me, and not a dozen yards away. Familiar as I am 

 with these little birds, I was greatly struck with the very remarkable 

 uniformity in their appearance. All had their heads in one direction, 

 and although individuals differed in a lighter or darker shade of 

 plumage, all had the colours disposed, or laid on, in three very 

 distinct horizontal stripes, very plain and well defined, as if put on 

 with a brush : they reminded me irresistibly of the coloured indi- 

 viduals in a Noah's Ark. This is not nearly so apparent when the 

 bird is in hand, and a flock of living birds must be seen at close 

 quarters to notice the peculiarity. The little snow bunting has 

 always been a great favourite of mine: they are ever lively, even in 

 the roughest and most ungcnial weather; their cheery note and 

 the flickerings of so many variegated wings go far to enliven and 

 light up the otherwise dull and dreary landscape of the wintry 

 marsh : they have come so far to visit us, and flown so long over 

 stormy seas, from little known lands — bleak Tundras and wild 

 treeless shores washed with the waves of arctic seas. 



Golden Plover. — Nov. 2-2nd. Saw the first large flock of golden 

 plovers, probably owing to the fine season and general dryness of 

 the marshes, they have not visited us nearly in such numbers as is 

 usually the case. 



Heron. — December 2nd. I saw a group of thirteen herons this 

 morning; they stood in various and picturesque attitudes on an 

 elevated portion of the immense sandy level of this coast. The 

 day was thick, hazy and warm, and the birds loomed as big as 

 storks, appearing nearly twice their natural size. All objects seen 



