350 A BUSY WEEK ON THE KUREIKA 



anxious to secure a series of their eggs, and had carefully 

 looked after them, feeding them with the bodies of the 

 birds I skinned. They treated me, however, in the most 

 ungrateful manner. As soon as the snow was melted 

 from most of the ground they vanished, and all my 

 efforts to discover their breeding-place proved in vain, 

 though I offered a considerable reward for a nest 

 containing eggs. The Russians call the nutcracker the 

 verofky, and both the peasants and the natives assured 

 me that no one had ever seen its nest. With the 

 exception of a couple of birds which I picked up after- 

 wards in full moult, I saw nothing more of them until 

 they reappeared in flocks on the return journey. 



In the evening I spent some time watching th'e 

 double snipes through my binocular. With a little 

 caution I found it easy to get very near them, and fre- 

 quently, as I sat partially concealed between a couple of 

 willow-bushes, I was able to turn my glass on two or 

 three pairs of these birds, all within fifteen or twenty 

 yards of me. They had one very curious habit which 

 I noted. They used to stretch out their necks, throw 

 back the head almost on to the back, and open and shut 

 their beaks rapidly, uttering a curious noise, like running 

 one's finger along the edge of a comb. This was some- 

 times accompanied by a short flight, or by the spreading 

 of the wings and tail. The double snipe is by no means 

 shy, and allows of a near approach. When it gets up 

 from the ground it rises with a whirr of the wings like 

 that of a grouse, but not so loud, whilst the pin-tailed 

 snipe gets up quietly. I did not succeed in finding the 

 nest of the double snipe, but I have no doubt it breeds 

 in the valley of the Kureika, as it was still frequenting 

 the marshy ground when we weighed anchor in the ill- 

 starred Thames on the 29th of June, and I noticed it in 



