NEW ARRIVALS yr 



but on the whole a thaw. The next day the morning 

 was bitterly cold, with the north wind blowing hard. In' 

 the afternoon the wind veered to the west, with a heavy 

 fall of snow. At midnight the wind dropped, the sky 

 became clear, and the thermometer went down to i6°. 

 The landscape was again white and frost-bound. It looked 

 exactly like mid-winter, except that at that hour of night 

 we could see to read a newspaper out of doors. The 

 climate of these regions is very curious at this time of the 

 year. The change is sudden and violent — a leaping from 

 mid-winter into summer, without any intervening spring. 



We strolled out in the morning, not expecting to see 

 anything new. We shot a tree-sparrow and a yellow- 

 hammer, and were returning home somewhat disheartened, 

 in spite of our unexpectant mood at starting, when a hen- 

 harrier suddenly put in an appearance. He did not, 

 however, come within range, and we went into a little 

 valley, there to wait for him or a chance raven. By- 

 and-by a small hawk crossed in front of us. We followed 

 it up the hillside, caught sight of it again, watched it 

 alight on a heap of manure, quietly stalked it, and shot 

 it. It turned out to be a female merlin. Whilst we 

 were carefully putting it away, an eagle passed almost 

 within shot of us. In one of the cottages a peasant 

 showed us the skin of an eagle-owl {Bubo maximus). 

 The next evening we strolled out on the banks of the 

 Petchora. Brilliant sunshine flooded the earth, not a 

 cloud was in the sky ; but it was cold and winterly as 

 Christmas. Flocks of magpies and of hooded crows 

 were almost the only birds we saw. They passed us on 

 the wing, evidently going to their resting-places in the 

 woods. 



The week had not brought us many birds, but we 

 knew summer was at hand, and we waited patiently. 



