114 THE ARCTIC PRAIRIES 



leading into a sure-death cataract. But Billy was a 

 river pilot and we made the point in safety. 



Drifted like snow through the distant woods were 

 the brooding birds, but they arose before we were 

 near and sailed splendidly overhead in a sweeping, 

 wide-fronted rank. As nearly as I could number them, 

 there were 120, but evidently some were elsewhere, as 

 this would not allow a pair to each nest. 



We landed safely and found the nests scattered 

 among the trees and fallen timbers. One or two 

 mother birds ran off on foot, but took wing as soon 

 as clear of the woods — none remained. 



The nests numbered 77, and there was evidence of 

 others long abandoned. There were 163 eggs, not 

 counting 5 rotten ones, lying outside; nearly all had 

 2 eggs in the nest; 3 had 4; 5 had 3; 4 had 1. One or 

 two shells were found in the woods, evidently sucked 

 by Gulls or Ravens. 



All in the nests were near hatching. One little one 

 had his beak out and was uttering a hoarse chirping; 

 a dozen blue-bottle flies around the hole in the shell 

 were laying their eggs in it and on his beak. This led 

 us to examine all the nests that the flies were buzzing 

 around, and in each case (six) we found the same state 

 of affairs, a young one with his beak out and the flies 

 "blowing" around it. All of these were together in 

 one corner, where were a dozen nests, probably an- 

 other colony of earlier arrival. 



We took about a dozen photos of the place (large 

 and small). Then I set my camera with the long tube 

 to get the old ones, and we went to lunch at the other 



