130 Bird -Lore 



tian Tern were names to conjure with, and the anticipation of studying these 

 birds in their remote northern homes filled me with joy. In the North, my 

 headquarters were at St. Michael, on the coast of Bering Sea, about sixty miles 

 north of the Yukon delta. Here Emperor Geese rarely occurred except stray 

 parties — visitors to the marshy coast-plain in fall. I made a sledge journey 

 one winter through the Yukon delta and across the tundras southward to the 

 Kuskoquim, and found the Esquimos in that area wearing "parkies," or outer 

 garments, made of the skins of Emperor Geese sewed together, and learned 

 that great numbers of these birds nested there each spring. From what I 

 learned, it appeared evident that they rarely nested above the upper limit of 

 the tide in the sluggish streams of this low plain. All available observations 

 of the habits of this bird show it to be a strictly salt-water, coastal species 

 both in summer and winter. Its food is sought between tide lines either on 

 oozy flats, as at the Yukon mouth, or along the rocky beaches of the wild Aleu- 

 tian shores. 



One spring, during my residence at St. Michael, it became possible to 

 fulfil my long-cherished desire to visit the breeding-grounds of these Geese 

 and many other waterfowl in the Yukon delta. To reach there in time to wel- 

 come the coming feathered host, I left St. Michael early in May with an Es- 

 quimo and a dog-sledge. The tundra was still clothed in winter white, except 

 here and there a bare spot on the sunny side of a knoll, and the sea was covered 

 with unbroken ice to the far horizon. The hoarse, crowing notes of the Willow 

 Ptarmigan were beginning to be heard on the tundra, and occasional scouts 

 from the coming army of White-fronted and Cackling Geese passed high 

 overhead, spying out the land; yet the day I started the temperature was 

 well below zero. 



At the border of the Yukon delta, Esquimos familiar with the country 

 were employed to lead us to the desired nesting-ground of the Emperor Goose. 

 Nearly half a day's journey among the maze of ice-covered channels of the 

 delta brought us to a low, flat island, where our guide assured me many na- 

 chau-thluk would soon arrive, to rear their young. It was a bare, desolate 

 spot, with only a few scattered alders on the upper side of the islands, and 

 an unbroken view out over the frozen sea to the west. A tent was put up 

 on a slight rise and, after a stock of drift-wood had been gathered, the 

 guides took the sledge and left me with my Esquimo companion to await 

 the arrival of the birds. Later, when the ice went out, they returned for me 

 with kyaks. 



A few White-fronted and Cackling Geese gave noisy evidence of their 

 presence, but it was not until May 22 that the Esquimo brought in the first 

 Emperor Goose — a male in beautiful spring plumage. After this, small flocks 

 came in rapidly until they were plentiful all about us. They arrived quietly, 

 skimming along near the ground, quite unlike the other Geese, which appeared 

 high overhead with wild outbursts of clanging cries, which were answered 



