SNOW-BUNTINGS 45 



attaching to a rare bird. The brilliant contrast of the 

 black and white on the plumage of these birds, then 

 rapidly assuming their summer dress, was especially 

 beautiful during flight. The flight itself is peculiar, 

 somewhat like that of a butterfly, as if it altered its mind 

 every few seconds as to which direction it would take. 

 It can scarcely be called an undulating flight. The bird 

 certainly does rest its wings every few seconds, but either 

 they are expanded when at rest, or they are rested for so 

 short a time, that the plane of flight is not sufficiently 

 altered to warrant its being called undulatory. The 

 snow-buntings in Ust-Zylma were principally in flocks, 

 but now and then we saw a couple of birds together 

 which seemed to have paired, and occasionally, when 

 the sun was hotter than usual, a solitary specimen might 

 be seen perched upon a rail attempting to sing, but we 

 never heard them sing on the wing. Unfortunately we 

 did not get far enough north to meet with these birds at 

 their breeding stations. In 1874, when Collett and I 

 were in Norway, we found the snow-bunting breeding on 

 the island of Vadso in the Varanger Fjord. We were too 

 late for eggs, as this bird is a very early breeder, and the 

 young were already in the nest by the middle of June: 

 but we had many opportunities of watching the male 

 birds. They would fling themselves up into the air 

 almost like a shuttlecock, singing all the time a low and 

 melodious warble, not unlike that of a shore-lark, or 

 perhaps still more like that of the Lapland bunting, and 

 they would immediately descend in a spiral curve with 

 wing and tails expanded, and finish their song on a 

 rock. Although we only once or twice heard the snow- 

 buntings attempting to sing in Ust-Zylma, they were by 

 no means silent birds, and were continually calling to 

 each other. The call note is a zh, not unlike that of the 



