they were nesting singly; we found that it was generally worth while to search the neighbouring trees, &c., and by so doing we several times found a Redwing's, Brambling's, or Redpoll's nest, which we otherwise might have missed. Most often, I think, we found a Fieldfare and a Redwing breeding in company. All the nests we found were in birches, and never more than ten feet up; in fact, nearly all could be reached without climbing at all. When incubating the old bird sits very tight, and on one occasion, the nest being favourably situated, we were able to take an excellent photograph of the old bird sitting at a distance of six feet, the whole operation of putting the camera together, &c., taking place in full view of the bird, not more than ten yards away. It was not until we almost touched her that she flew off.
Redwing (T. iliacus).—By no means common, but generally distributed, breeding in the small swamps in the woods or near the river, and on the hills where the trees begin to merge into scrub. One nest we found was on the high fjeld, in a large patch of scrub willow; but as high as this the birds were distinctly rare. All the nests were near the ground, the highest being 2½ ft. from it, built in scrub willow on an island in the river. A favourite situation was a dead birch-stump, about six inches high, or in the fork where two or three stems of equal size sprung from the same root; while another nest was on a pile of tree-loppings, where some wood-cutters had been at work. Most of the nests contained young by June 26th, but the nest on the high fjeld had five fresh eggs on June 28th; this nest was absolutely on the ground, at the foot of a dwarf willow, and the bird was nearly trodden on by one of us before she flew off with loud chatterings. A few addled eggs were got from other nests. We found the Redwings every bit as noisy and bold when they had young as the Fieldfares, and though from their situation the nests were not quite so easy to find, by hunting where the birds made most noise they did not give much trouble. We found that the cocks stopped singing as soon as the young were hatched, and joined the hens in tending the brood, and doing their best to drive off intruders. The song of the Redwing is quite short, and consists of only a few notes; but when near enough for one to hear the softer notes, it is by no means devoid of sweetness, and personally, hearing it for the first time, we thought it almost beautiful. Certainly it is repeated with deadly monotony, and on several occasions, when trying to get to sleep in the bright light of the midnight sun, we heartily cursed an old Redwing who, from the top of a birch tree, was pouring out his song about six or eight times a minute, hour after hour, the whole night through.
Wheatear (Saxicola œnanthe).—The Maskejok Valley was quite un-
