5P) THE ZOOLOGIST. 



Willow Grouse, L. albus iGm.) — Pretty plentiful in the birch 

 region on the fells, and occasionally met with in the edge of the 

 fir-growth. I saw a good many at Laurgaard, also at Fokstuen. 

 The similarity of the male bird's call when rising to that of the 

 Red Grouse is striking to one accustomed to the latter. 



Hazel Grouse, Bonasa betulina (Scop.) — I did not meet with 

 this bird alive, which, I believe, is not an uncommon experience 

 with foreigners in Norway, but I bought a male (snared, of course) 

 in Lillehammer. 



Corn Crake, Crex pratensis (Bechst.) — I heard the note of 

 this bird at Naersness, and once at Lillehammer, where it seemed 

 uncommon. 



Common Crane, Grus communis (Bechst.)— Inasmuch as Mr. 

 Mitchell [I. c.) never saw a Crane at Fokstuen during his visit, I 

 did not particularly expect to do so either. On the second day, 

 however, after my arrival (June 2nd), I was wading through the 

 swamps below the station, and wondering what would turn up 

 next (for Fokstuen is a place, ornithologically, of pleasant 

 surprises) when my eye fell on a small bare turf island in the 

 middle of a swampy pool, about sixty yards distant, where I at 

 once caught sight of something like a large egg. I approached, 

 full of anticipation, and found two large eggs, and Crane's to 

 boot ; whilst looking at them, not without pleasure, my attention 

 was caught by a faint chirp, which proceeded, as I found at 

 length, from one of the eggs, the chick whereof had broken the 

 shell, and was complaining, as I took it, that he could not get 

 out. So I concluded that the egg I was holding was addled (as 

 it was), and thought it best, considering the intense heat of the 

 sun, to take it at once for fear it might burst. So I retreated to 

 an adjacent bush, where I crouched down, suspending my gun in 

 the willows, in the hope that the parent would return whilst I was 

 employed in cleaning and blowing the egg, to gratify my curiosity 

 to watch her at her nest. Soon I heard her cry, like a distant 

 bugle, and made her out approaching stealthily in a somewhat 

 crouching attitude. However, she did not come near (having, as 

 I imagine, caught a flash from my field-glasses), and, after 

 wandering about for some time, she got up and flew round in a 

 wide circle, being shortly joined by her mate, and both trumpeting 

 loudly. I thought their cry the finest I had ever heard from any 

 bird's throat, but doubtless the wild and solitary spot, surrounded 



