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but the bird remained perfectly silent, and did not betray the slightest symptom of fear or 

 concern, until I touched the eggs. She then gave a nutter towards me, apparently to attract my 

 attention. I turned towards her, and she resumed her former unconcern. I stretched my hand 

 towards her. She quietly retreated, keeping about two feet from my hand. She seemed so 

 extremely tame that I almost thought for the moment that I could catch her, and getting onto 

 all fours I crept quietly towards her. As soon as I began to move from the nest, her manner 

 entirely changed. She kept about the same distance ahead of me ; but instead of retreating, with 

 the utmost apparent nonchalance she did every thing in her power to attract me still further. 

 She shuffled along the ground as if lame. She dropped her wings as if unable to fly, and occa- 

 sionally rested on her breast, quivering her drooping wings and spread tail, as if dying. I threw 

 one of my gauntlets at her, thinking to secure her without damage, but she was too quick for 

 me. Piottuch then fired at her and missed. He followed her for some distance ; but she kept 

 just out of range, and finally flew away. We waited about a quarter of an hour at the nest, 

 talking and making no effort to conceal ourselves, when she flew straight up and alighted within 

 easy shot, and I secured her. The Little Stint seems to be a very quiet bird at the nest, quite 

 different from Temminck's Stint. When you invade a colony of the latter birds, especially if they 

 have young, the parents almost chase you from the spot — flying wildly round and round, and 

 crying vociferously, often perching upon a stake or a tree, or hovering in the air and trilling. 

 We observed none of these habits in the Little Stint. So far as we saw, only the female takes 

 part in incubation, and only the female is seen near the nest. On our way back to the wreck 

 we met with a party of Sanderlings on the shore, and shot two of them. No doubt these birds 

 were breeding somewhere in the district. After a good dinner of Willow-Grouse and a siesta of 

 three hours, we started to take the nest that Piottuch had marked. Whilst we had slept, the 

 weather had changed. The mosquitoes had all gone. A smart gale was blowing from the north, 

 and a heavy sea was breaking on the shore. It was cloudy, and dark, and cold, with an attempt 

 now and then at rain. The nest was a couple of miles off, very near the shore of the inland sea, 

 but on somewhat similar ground — moss, cloudberry, grass, &c. The eggs were intermediate in 

 colour between those of the other two nests. On our return to our quarters we found that our 

 Samoyede servant had caught a young Little Stint, halfgrown, a very interesting bird. Like the 

 young of the Dunlin, the first feathers are those of summer plumage. On comparing the young 

 in down and halfgrown birds of the Dunlin with those of the Little Stint, we noted that the legs 

 of young Dunlin in down were pale brown, whilst those of the halfgrown and mature birds were 

 nearly black ; the Little Stint, on the other hand, seems to have nearly black legs and feet at 

 all ages. 



" The Little Stint is evidently much more nearly allied to the Dunlin than to Temminck's 

 Stint, and ought to be called the Little Dunlin. The birds are very similar in colour. The eggs 

 of the Little Stint can hardly be mistaken for those of Temminck's Stint, but are in every respect 

 miniature Dunlin's eggs. The young in down of Temminck's Stint are quite grey compared with 

 the reddish brown of the young of the Dunlin. The young in down of the Little Stint are still 

 redder, especially on the sides and the back of the neck. On the 27th July Harvie-Brown 

 walked over to the other side of the little inland sea, and found two more nests of the Little 

 Stint, each containing four eggs. These nests were on different ground. They were not on the 



