g2 ICE-BOUND ON KOLGUEV 
position a bit, so that my head was clear of the nest. I 
was lying very still, watching a stone in the water which 
served as an index to its height: and I do not think more 
than five minutes had passed before she came, making 
no more of me than if I had been a stone, and—whir-r-r-p, 
—she had whipped close past my ear into the nest. 
You will recollect that we had found these birds on 
Horné with young ones able to fly, and here on Kolguev 
they had not yet hatched. Indeed these eggs were 
quite fresh. 
A male snow-bunting in his breeding plumage is 
certainly a most beautiful little bird. Unfortunately we 
do not often see him like that in England, for the bird 
does not nest with us, or only sparingly, in the extreme 
north of Scotland. They are with us in winter in flocks, 
but then the beautiful black-and-white of the male has 
given place to more quiet colouring. Only when they 
rise from the stubbles where they feed, your eye is 
caught by a white flicker in the wings. 
A ringed plover which had her four eggs a few yards 
off was not half so trusting. 
It was very cold, but this silly little bird kept me often 
in most uncomfortable positions for long together, be- 
cause she was so nervous. I should think she ran off 
and on to her eggs almost as many times in ten minutes. 
For she would settle down in quite a final way, but if I 
moved a finger off she went running about a yard or 
two away, and piping plaintively. Whether her eggs 
