The Zoologist/4th series, vol 5 (1901)/Issue 725/Brief Notes on an Expedition to the North of Iceland in 1899, Coburn

by Frederick Coburn

 

THE ZOOLOGIST

 

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No. 725.—November, 1901.

 

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BRIEF NOTES ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE
NORTH OF ICELAND IN 1899.

By F. Coburn.

 

I spent the summer of 1899, alone, exploring the North of Iceland for ornithological purposes. My primary object in visiting that island was to study the breeding haunts and habits of some British birds who do not, or rarely do, breed in this country; and to procure specimens, especially the downy young, to assist in completing, as far as I can during my lifetime, the series of educational pictures depicting the life-histories of British birds, upon which I have been already engaged about ten years.

I was totally ignorant of the island and the people, and could obtain no reliable or satisfactory information in this country until the very eve of my departure; the only books I had access to being Paijkull's 'Summer in Iceland,' and Shepherd's 'North-West Peninsula of Iceland.'

From the scant information I could glean, I quite expected that I should have to lead a wild life, and therefore fitted up my expedition with tents and all necessaries, provisioning myself for two months, which I considered, with the assistance I might obtain from the inhabitants and my guns, should make me safe for four months, if necessary. I had not, however, been on the island many days before I found that most of these preparations had been so much worry, hard work, and money practically thrown away; for I quickly discerned that it would be advantageous to discard my tent and rations, and throw in my lot with the farmers wherever I went, paying them for the accommodation of myself and guides. These people are very poor—from our standpoint—and gratefully appreciate the money which some travellers spend with them; while they certainly resent the action of those who take their tents and provisions, and get all they want out of the country, leaving the smallest possible amount of money behind them. The action of the Icelanders on this score I consider to be perfectly justifiable; and I would advise any naturalists who contemplate travelling in this wonderland to prepare themselves for "roughing it," to engage a first-class guide, and put up with whatever the farmers can supply in the way of food. The Icelander's mode of dining appears strange and rough at first, but the climate and the rough life one leads are so bracing, that one does not think of how things are cooked, or what it is which is placed on the table. I had nothing to complain of in the good houses; the great desire is to get something of some kind to satisfy hunger. I was certainly put to sore straits at times, when the calculations of my chief guide, Sigurdur Samarlidason, miscarried, and sighed for my tent and provisions, which I had come to regard as nothing but an encumbrance; but these were exceptions, and I should never hesitate to adopt the plan again, even if I knew that greater hardships were in store than those I have already gone through.

At the outset I was confronted with great difficulties in consequence of the strictness of the law as to shooting birds in the close-time, and once thought I might just as well pack up my traps, and return by the first vessel I could find; but ultimately I firmly determined that, after all my preparations, I would not do so until I had exhausted every art of diplomacy of which I was capable. The result was that, in an interview with the chief magistrate for the north and east portions of the island, I so enlisted his sympathies in the educational works I had in hand, that he said he considered he ought to be in a position not only to give me the permission I asked for, but to render me every assistance in his power; but the law was made—a bad law he believed it to be—and he could not alter it. However, bit by bit, I gained concession after concession, until eventually I was armed with magisterial authority to procure all I needed; provided I made arrangements with the farmers in the different districts I visited, and paid them for permission to get specimens on their ground. I was led to understand distinctly that the land belonged to the farmers, and whatever that land produced was their property. There is practically no unclaimed land in the North of Iceland. My trusty guide and interpreter—he is one of the best guides in Iceland—who I had engaged for the whole length of my stay, used this magisterial permit—and perhaps amplified it—with such success wherever we went, that I was almost everywhere received with the greatest kindness and respect, the people certainly trying their very utmost to assist me in procuring all I needed; and in the more remote districts no small potentate could have expected greater consideration than was accorded to me. I have said almost everywhere; there was one solitary exception, and this at the time—and the point farthest north which I had reached—when I was becoming utterly worn out with hard work, and during the last and most disastrous journey I made, which so disheartened me that I determined to bring my wanderings in Iceland to a close.

The plan I adopted was to have a base of operations in the different districts, and make journeys in different directions from that base; none of these journeys exceeded three days in duration, but it was at such times that I occasionally felt the need of a tent and proper provisions.

The land was to me a veritable paradise, teeming with birdlife almost everywhere; the birds appearing in such a manner that it was easy to observe their habits. It is so different with our wild and wary creatures at home.

Somewhere about sixty-six species came under my observation either directly or indirectly, and to the bulk of them I shall have to refer in the briefest possible manner, enlarging only in the more important cases. To refer to all the interesting traits of character I studied would need a volume of 'The Zoologist' instead of a few pages. I consider that I accomplished more useful work in the few weeks I spent in the land than I could have done in many years at home.

Although great fields of snow can be seen on the mountains everywhere, the climate in the valleys is mild and delightful; except during rain or fog, when the cold penetrates almost to one's marrow. My health was almost extravagantly good; better than it had been for many years previously.

This was my maiden effort at exploration away from our own shores. The following pages will show how successful it was.

The Icelandic names of the birds are placed in brackets. I have taken them from Gröndal's 'Skýrsla' (Skýrsla, un hid Islenzka náttúrnfrædisfelag, árid 1894-1895. Reykjavik, 1895). This, I consider, better than trusting to the spelling of the names given to me by the inhabitants.

 

Redwing, Turdus iliacus. (Skógarpröstur).—Fairly abundant in the districts where birch-scrub abounds. Very wild; more so, in fact, than they are with us during the winter. I was utterly disappointed with the song; it is the weakest, shortest, and most unmusical song I have ever heard from a Thrush, and I could not believe that I was listening to one until I located the bird with my glasses. My specimens differ in plumage from any other Redwings I have ever seen, and are in Dr. Bowdler Sharpe's hands for determination. I procured adult male and female, nest and eggs, and nest with five young just hatched.

Wheatear, Saxicola œnanthe. (Steindepill).—The small dull-coloured race. Plentiful in all districts I visited. I got adult male and female, and young in first and second stages.

Iceland Wren, Troglodytes borealis. (Músarrindill).—I saw this bird once only, and then it was like a mouse gliding into the scrub. All Icelanders knew the bird by name, but very few had ever seen it.^[1] That name was invariably "músarrindill"; I never heard it called by any other in the north. The Rev. H.H. Slater, in his recently published 'Manual of the Birds of Iceland,' curiously enough, has never heard this name used, notwithstanding his fifteen years' experience in Iceland. Músarrindill means "Mouse-bird."

White Wagtail, Motacilla alba. (Maríu-erla, &c.).—Common almost everywhere, and the only species of Wagtail to be found in Iceland. I procured a perfect series: adult males and females; first, second, third, and fourth stages of the young; the change from summer to winter plumage; nest and young; nest and eggs; and, a great rarity—nest with white eggs.

Rock-Pipit, Anthus obscurus. (No Icelandic name.)—I found this bird in all the Færœ Islands, and took a nest and young from a stone wall at Klaksvig. In Iceland I only once met with it in Vopnafjord, and then attached no importance to it, and did not attempt to procure the specimen, being unaware that it had never been recorded from Iceland. I do not think that I could have been mistaken in a bird with which I am so thoroughly familiar.

Meadow-Pipit, A. pratensis. (Púfutitlingur.)—Common in most districts, and resident. From observations I made I thought this bird ought to be separated from A. pratensis, and Faber's name, A. islandicus, restored; as I detected a slight difference in the song, in the structure of the nest, in the plumage of adults and young, but, most important of all, in the fact that the colour of the inside of the mouth, in the nestling, is flesh-white, as compared with the scarlet orange in our bird. After more mature study, however, and the examination of various stages of the young of our bird during the present season of 1901, I think it best not to further discuss the question until I have paid another visit to Iceland to satisfy myself that the more important characters are permanent. I obtained adult male and female, various stages of the young, and nest with five young just hatched.

Pipit, sp.?.—I made a special visit to the least known portion of a lovely valley, the sides of which were clothed with dense forests of birch, some of the trees being from ten to fifteen feet high. The undergrowth was as dense as in many English thickets, and to penetrate this was a matter of considerable difficulty. I was lying concealed in this undergrowth, watching Hornemann's Redpoll, when I heard the vigorous song of a bird which was totally new to me. Cautiously observing, I saw, to my utter astonishment, a small Pipit clinging to an upright slender shoot of birch, precisely as a Whitethroat or Sedge-Warbler would do. When I made my appearance the bird left the twig, and, mounting into the air, continued its song, and flew right across the wide valley, singing the whole time, finally settling in a birch on the opposite side. These movements I followed with my Zeiss binoculars. My attention was shortly afterwards directed by Sigurdur to a little bird skulking amongst the thick scrub, and running along the twigs with as much dexterity as a Grasshopper-Warbler would do. Its movements were so quick, and the scrub so dense, that I could not see what the bird was; but, bringing it down, I was again amazed to find that it was one of the little Pipits I had just been watching. The markings of the feathers are very similar to those of the Icelandic Meadow-Pipit, but the bird is conspicuously more slender in build, although the wing-measurement is the same in both species, but the habits and song are totally distinct. The Meadow-Pipit was plentiful enough in the lower portions of this valley, and was in song; but I found this bird only amongst the trees, and did not once see it on the ground. While searching, I came across a very curious nest, and deeply regret now that I did not bring it away with me; but I could not determine at the time whether it was an unfinished one, or disused. It was constructed entirely of grass-stems, and was placed about a foot from the ground, on the top of a tangled mass of twisted birch-scrub. The only other small birds breeding in this forest were Hornemann's Redpoll and the Redwing-Thrush. The nest did not belong to either of those birds; indeed, it looked like nothing but a Pipit's nest, although in such a singular situation. At this place I found a very intelligent young man, who appeared to take great interest in the birds, and he gave me, through Sigurdur, some very interesting notes about Hornemann's Redpoll. He took me to see a nest of young Pipits; it was placed on the side of a bank just as were other Meadow-Pipits' nests I had found; he was very anxious for Sigurdur to make me understand that it was the nest of the ground Titlingur, which led me to think that he knew of some other kind of Titlingur. I was forced to hurry away from this valley, but arranged to return and thoroughly investigate the question of this interesting little bird; but, alas! my plans miscarried, and I had not the opportunity to follow up my inquiries.

I have recently submitted the only two specimens of this bird which I brought back to Dr. Bowdler Sharpe, who, after much consideration, was inclined to regard them as new, but wished me to convey his views to Dr. Hartert at Tring, and ascertain whether there were any specimens in the Brehm collection like them. We went through the collection, and certainly found some wretched old specimens which did approach them in some features, but, just as certainly, we found nothing quite like them. However, Dr. Hartert determined that the external characteristics of my birds were not sufficiently distinct to form a good diagnosis. I admit this, and admire Dr. Hartert for his caution; but in a class of birds like the Pipits, which so closely resemble each other in plumage, surely something else must be taken into consideration; and I was certainly surprised that he attached no importance to the difference in song and habits, I always thought this was of vital importance; if it is not, how can we separate Marsh-Warbler from Reed-Warbler, or Chiffchaff from Willow-Wren? I have set forth these facts fully, as I am far from being convinced; and if I, or others, again penetrate to the remote spot in Iceland where I found these birds, and bring back more conclusive evidence, I think the bird will eventually be considered new.

Hornemann's Redpoll, Acanthis hornemanni. (No Icelandic name.) According to the Rev. H.H. Slater, this bird has been known as Icelandic from a solitary specimen, of uncertain locality, procured by the late Mr. Proctor. It is therefore a matter of importance that I found this bird breeding in the forest above referred to; as it not only places the bird on a sound footing, but gives a new breeding bird for Iceland, and, I think, Europe as well. I brought back adults, and nests and eggs, which have been identified by Dr. Bowdler Sharpe and Mr. Eugene W. Oates.

Snow-Bunting, Plectrophenax nivalis. (Snjótitlingur.)—Common in many districts. I was charmed with the song of this bird; when heard in the great solitudes, high up on the mountain-sides, amongst the masses of black lava and patches of snow, it struck me as being the sweetest Bunting's song I had ever heard. I procured a perfect series of this bird—nest and eggs, and every stage of young and adults, I have one very remarkable young bird, with legs and bill abnormally large.

Raven, Corvus corax. (Hrafn, &c.).—Plentiful in some districts. I found them breeding on the cliffs as late as July. I did not procure any specimens, but regret that I did not bring back a skin which I was offered, as it has since occurred to me that it was of the enormous billed American race.^[2]

Carrion-Crow, C. corone. (Færeyja-hrafn.)—I saw several of these birds once only, and that was in Seydisfjord.

Snowy Owl, Nyctea scandiaca. (Ugla, &c.).—I did not personally meet with this bird, but several skins were brought to me. I was assured that the bird had never been known to breed in the North, and rested there only on migration.

White-tailed Eagle, Haliaëtus albicilla. (Orn, Ari, &c.).—I saw a grand adult with white head and tail sailing over Lake Myvatn, but it never came within three hundred yards. This same solitary bird is said to have been seen in the district for ten years, but never with a mate.

Iceland Falcon, Falco islandus. (Fálki.)—I found this magnificent Falcon in moderate abundance in certain districts, and witnessed several striking scenes in connection with it. I scaled a vast pinnacle of rock (lava, and very rotten in places) to the eyrie; this was real cliff climbing, and very different to being comfortably lowered down a cliff by ropes. On the top there was only just room to move about, and to look into the eyrie I had to lay flat down, with two natives firmly clutching my legs to prevent me falling over the dizzy height. I was attacked by the parent birds, but secured the four big fluffy-white screaming young. It was a magnificent experience. I also shot adult females, and female in first plumage. I could have brought back more, but refrained from doing so.

Merlin, F. æsalon. (Smirill.)—Plentiful in many districts. Very bold. I saw some remarkable scenes between this bird and the Arctic Tern. I did not procure any specimens, as my series of this bird at home is complete. I have regretted, however, since my return, that I did not procure specimens of all the different kinds of birds I saw.

Cormorant, Phalacrocorax carbo. (Dilaskarfur.)—Common round those parts of the coast I visited.

Shag, P. graculus. (Toppskarfur.)—These also were plentiful in some parts.

Gannet, Sula bassana. (Súla hafsúla.)—Common, but I did not visit any of the breeding haunts.

Greylag Goose, Anser cinereus. (Grágoes.)—There has been so much confusion and uncertainty as to the species of Wild Goose breeding in Iceland, and the situation of the breeding haunt, that I am very pleased to be able to increase our knowledge on the subject. Shepherd's great journey in 1862 was undertaken chiefly with the object of settling this problem, but he totally failed, as have others who followed him, excepting the Brothers Pearson.^[3] Gróndal asserted that the breeding bird was the Bean-Goose, and all eggs which have been sent to England from Iceland were said to be those of Anser sergetum. The Rev. H.H. Slater, in the book before cited, suggests that the breeding haunt would eventually be found in the desert interior, and kindly offers, in 1901, to render any assistance he can to anyone who will brave the personal discomforts and expense of a summer in exploring the Skjálfandafljót River. I braved all these discomforts in 1899, and ascended the river from its mouth at Husavick to the breeding haunt, and that journey furnished some of the most interesting adventures throughout my wanderings. The breeding haunt is not in the interior, but is below Góda-foss. The situation is most remarkable, and is practically inaccessible, save to the farmer who lives nearest to it, and who alone can guide the traveller in safety. Well below Góda-foss the river bifurcates; one portion falling over vast cliffs, and forming the grand falls of Ullar-foss; the other the equally beautiful falls of Barnafells-foss, neither of which appear to be marked on recent maps. At this spot it is clearly to be seen that the valley of the Skjálfandafljót has been formed as the result of a mighty subsidence, snapping off here, and forming vast, jagged, and inaccessible cliffs. At the base, and extending far down the valley, there is a vast mass of débris of basaltic rock, the lumps varying from some hundreds of tons weight downwards; all in wild confusion. Amongst this, which abounds in treacherous quick-sands, the two arms of the river flow in numerous rapid and dangerous channels, eventually forming one river again. It was in and out amongst these channels that the native had to guide our horses with the utmost caution, and in a bewildering manner, giving the strictest instructions not to diverge a single foot from the track of his leading horse. Eventually he brought us on to the top of the cliffs. From here, to the point of bifurcation of the river, the land forms a great and long triangular-shaped island, clothed with the richest of vegetation. In the middle of this island there is a great space covered with black sand, and strewn with masses of black lava. This is the breeding haunt of Anser cinereus. It is in such an exposed position that the sitting birds can see the approach of an enemy long before one is within gun-range—even of a 4-bore—and take to flight. The eggs are placed on the sand, without any nest, and can be very easily seen. They are systematically taken by the farmer, and I was most positively assured that all the Wild Goose eggs which have been sent out from the North of Iceland were procured from this spot, this assertion being subsequently confirmed to my complete satisfaction. My guide was assured by the farmer that I was the first Englishman—Englander—he had ever seen in those parts.

I saw two considerable flocks of the birds—they were all Greylags—but the bulk of them had finished breeding, and were scattered lower down the river. These birds performed marvellous feats in the water, upon the edge of the mighty falls, which absolutely astounded me, and which I could not have credited had I not seen them. After about seven hours' chasing—the adults were in the moulting stage—I brought one party to bay on the edge of the cliffs. It was a dangerous spot, but afforded the only chance I should probably ever get. Scrambling down on to a narrow ledge, where there was only just room to stand, my faithful guide following and approaching as near as he could, with outstretched hands to receive me in case I was overbalanced by the recoil of the gun, I shouldered the ponderous 4-bore, and, to my delight, killed four birds at one shot—two adults and two young covered with yellow down. I recovered the two adults, but, alas! the two young, which I should have prized most, toppled over the cliffs, and fell a tremendous depth below, by the side of the falls. I descended the cliff in my eagerness to recover the prizes, until I was actually under the falls, and fully appreciated the meaning of the name Skjálfandafljót—"shivering or trembling"—and having reference to the shaking of the cliffs, by reason of the great body of water falling over. All my efforts were fruitless; the little birds had either fallen into the raging rapids, and been carried away, or into holes between the masses of lava. Afterwards I shot another splendid gander—judging by his size—but found it utterly impossible to recover his body, and saw it eventually carried away by the rapids. However, I had now thrown much more light on the problem, and, after fondly gazing at my two victims, I gave orders for the return with all speed to a farm where we could get rest and food. This we reached about 10 p.m., after fasting fourteen hours.

I made exhaustive inquiries on my return down the valley, and was most emphatically assured that the birds I had procured were the only kind of Wild Geese which breed in that part of Iceland, and that there was no other breeding haunt known in the whole North of Iceland than that I had visited, and, some said, in the whole of Iceland. I carefully explained the difference in the colour of the bill between A. cinereus and A. segetum.

White-fronted Goose, A. albifrons. (Grágœs.)— I did not meet with this bird, but it is well known to the farmers down the valley of the Skjálfandafljót, who told me that it was met with only resting during migration, and most emphatically assured me that it had never been known to breed in Iceland. This I heard first from the farmer at the breeding haunt of A. cinereus, and it was confirmed by others lower down the valley.

Whooper Swan, Cygnus musicus. (Alft.)—Saw four of these birds at Myvatn, but did not procure any specimens. It appears to be rare as a breeding species in the North.

Mallard, Anas boscas. (Stokkönd.)—Fairly plentiful in some districts. I procured female and downy young only.

Gadwall, A. strepera. ("Litla gráönd.")—This is another bird surrounded by much confusion and uncertainty. Gróndal does not know the bird, and most of the Icelanders with whom I came in contact did not recognize it. I think they confuse it with the female Mallard. Slater, during his fifteen years' experience, only saw the bird once, and then not with much certainty. I saw the adult female on at least four different occasions, but there was a succession of vexatious incidents, which are calculated to cause one to think of unparliamentary language, if not to use it, and which prevented me securing a specimen. However, I got five downy young, which I value very highly; they very closely resemble the young of the Mallard, but may be known by their shorter and narrower bill—shorter than the head—and the presence of lamellæ. The female is a very noisy bird at times, when she loses her young, for instance. A skin was brought to me, which I regret I did not secure, as it was in very dark plumage, and was undoubtedly the male in the eclipse stage.

Pintail, Dafila acuta. (Grafönd.)—I met with it frequently, but it is very wild and wary. I got adult female and downy young.

Teal, Querquedula crecca. (Urt.)—Plentiful in several districts. I procured adult female, downy young, eggs, and down.

Teal, sp.?.—I saw a Teal with a very dark back, leading four very dark young towards the water. I mistook her for the Common Teal, and, having procured the above, did not intend to interfere with her. In her solicitude for her young she feigned lameness, and in so doing expanded her wings, when I saw one broad white band across, above a green speculum. I made repeated efforts to secure her, but failed. What species could this have been?

Wigeon, Mareca penelope. (Randhöfda-önd.)—Common in many districts, especially the interior. I procured adult females, a good series of downy young, eggs, and down.

American Wigeon, M. americana.—This is probably the most important discovery I made. To be the first to find this splendid duck breeding in Europe gives me the greatest satisfaction. I cannot refrain from expressing surprise that all the ornithologists who have preceded and followed me in Iceland should have failed to discover this striking bird. The very first duck I shot when I finally landed in Iceland was a female Mareca americana, and the very first downy young I secured were three—full clutch—of this species. Subsequently I got the adult male, and saw another adult male in eclipse dress; female and about five downy young, which I could not secure; and still another adult female. I met with the bird in three different districts, in two of which it was breeding. The Icelanders knew the male well enough, although as a rare visitor, but regarded it as being only a variety of the Common Wigeon. The female they could not distinguish at all.

This (the female) is a most distinct looking bird in the field, and could not be mistaken, when its characters are understood, by anyone whose eyes were properly accustomed to the appearance of the female Mareca penelope. It is much stouter in build; indeed, the difference appears to be as great as that between a person of ten stone and another of fourteen stone. The instant I saw my first bird I was so struck by its appearance that I examined it long and earnestly through my glasses, with the result that I allowed it to escape; but the second I saw was promptly secured.

This discovery of the breeding of what has hitherto been considered a strictly American bird in Europe will certainly be a subject of great interest not only to ornithologists here, but to those of America, and the Continent as well; and will certainly strengthen the hitherto somewhat shaky position of the species as a British bird. As will be gathered from the foregoing, I brought back adult male and female, and three downy young. I am having a plate prepared, which will show at a glance how to distinguish between the female and young male of this bird and the Common Wigeon.

Scaup, Fuligula marila. (Dúkönd.)—One of the commonest ducks. I found the nesting-sites and the nest of this duck to vary to a most remarkable extent. One nest was built up from the bottom of the lake, until the top was brought under the shelter of a mass of large leaves of the marsh-marigold. The mass of vegetable-matter and mud used would have filled a large wheelbarrow. I brought the top portion and the eggs away.^[4] I got adult females, plenty of downy young, nests, eggs, and down.

Barrow's Golden-eye, Clangula islandica. (Húsönd.)—Very common in some districts. All writers, even to the latest, on this handsome duck intimate that it is difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish between the female of this and our Golden-eye (C. glaucion). In the very first couple of these birds I shot—they were the first I had ever handled—I noticed a peculiarity of structure which I had never seen in any duck before, and one which would certainly instantly distinguish between the female or young male and our bird; it is also present in the downy young. I procured an unusually large series of females to satisfy myself that the character was permanent, and on my return examined a good series of females of our bird. I am having a plate prepared, showing these distinctive characters. I gathered much very interesting information concerning these birds. I brought back adult males (summer and winter), adult females, plenty of downy young, eggs, and down.

Long-tailed Duck, Harelda glacialis. (Hávella.)—The commonest breeding duck everywhere. I got adult male in eclipse dress, adult females, plenty of downy young, eggs, and down.

Harlequin Duck, Cosmonetta histrionica. (Straumönd.)—This magnificent duck is common on most of the wild rapid rivers. The breeding haunts are amongst some of the wildest and most romantic spots in Iceland. I had some narrow escapes from drowning in trying to recover downy young which I had shot. The female is a noble duck in the defence of her young. I obtained adult male in breeding dress, and in the rare eclipse stage—hitherto unknown; adult females, a good series of downy young, eggs, and down.

Eider-Duck, Somateria mollissima. (Ædur.)—Simply swarming everywhere along the North coast. A strictly protected bird. I got adult male and female, a good series of downy young, nest, eggs, and down.

King-Eider, S. spectabilis. (Ædarkóngur.)—A very intelligent farmer, who could speak English fluently, knew this duck perfectly, and described the peculiarity of the bill. He assured me that it bred frequently, but occasionally, amongst his other Eiders; it had not appeared the season I was there. However, I saw some small darklooking Eiders which puzzled me, and wanted to secure one, but Sugurdur would not let me, as he was afraid of this farmer. If I had seen the farmer before I did the ducks, I am afraid I should have accidentally killed one of them.

Common Scoter, Œdemia nigra. (Hrafnsönd.)—Not plentiful, in my experience. I procured adult female, downy young, eggs, and down.

Goosander, Mergus merganser. (Toppönd.)—I did not meet with this bird, and only saw the skin of an adult male which had been shot on Lake Myvatn. I was told that the bird formerly bred in the district, but has now deserted it.

Merganser, M. serrator. (Litla toppönd.)—Fairly abundant. I got downy young only.

Rock Ptarmigan, Lagopus rupestris. (Rjúpa.)—Very common, some of the moorlands in the North swarming with them. I saw broods of twenty. This is altogether the most stupid bird I have ever met with. It trusts so blindly to its protective colouring that I really think it believes itself to be invisible. This was far from the case to my eyes, for I could detect them far more quickly than the Icelanders could. I saw some very fine instances of protective mimicry, however, in this bird. I obtained males and females in summer, autumn, and winter plumages, every stage in the growth of the young bird, from just hatched up to nearly full-grown, nest, and eggs. The little chick can fly when about three days old.

Ringed Plover, Ægialitis hiaticula. (Sandlóa.)—Fairly abundant. The first of these birds I saw puzzled me exceedingly, as their upper parts were of a light chocolate colour. I could not procure specimens, as I had not unpacked my guns. All those I saw in other districts were the normally coloured birds with which I am quite familiar. When I returned to the first place, about five weeks later, my eyes were opened to the fact that it was a most striking and interesting case of conscious protective mimicry. At all events, I think, when I can give full details, it will be found to be so. I procured males, females, and downy young. I found this bird breeding far towards the interior districts.

Golden Plover, Charadrius pluvialis. (Heidló, &c.).—The commonest of Iceland birds, being abundant everywhere. I was charmed with its sweet, flute-like, tootling song, and tried to syllable it after I had heard it perhaps thousands of times, and was then listening to it. An utterly absurd failure, as it is with the attempt to syllable nearly all other birds' notes. I got a perfect series of this bird, from the young just hatched, and every possible stage up to full-fledged; also a good number of adult males and females. This was one of the very few birds of which I procured more than I actually wanted for my series.

Oystercatcher, Hæmatopus ostralegus. (Tjaldur.)—In moderate numbers in some districts. I did not trouble to procure any specimens.

Red-necked Phalarope, Phalaropus hyperboreus. (Odinshani.)—In some districts as common as Sparrows in a barn-yard. I could write long chapters on the habits of this fascinating little bird. I discovered, notwithstanding assertions to the contrary, that the male performs the sole duty of hatching the eggs and rearing the young, the female leaving after the eggs are laid. My evidence is, I think, conclusive. I am aware that an American observer, I believe, has made a similar discovery with regard to the allied Grey Phalarope (P. fulicarius). My series of this bird is a remarkably complete one. Adult males and female in summer stages, and changing to winter; young in every conceivable stage, from just hatched to full-fledged; nest and eggs. I do not consider that the full-fledged young has been properly described.

Common Snipe, Gallinago cœlestis. (Hrossagaukur.)—Met with very sparingly, and only in certain districts. I only procured one adult. A curious looking bird, but it cannot be other than the Common Snipe.

Dunlin, Tringa alpina. (Lóupræll.)—Very abundant. The small race. I procured adult males, females, and young.

Purple Sandpiper, T. striata. (Sendlingur.)—Plentiful in some parts. I went to several breeding haunts, but had to leave before I had procured eggs, and when I returned was too late for downy young. I got adult males and females and fledged young, but with the heads still covered with down. The young in first plumage have not been properly described. Those which reach our shores in the autumn, with the pale margins to the feathers, and which Seebohm describes as first plumage, are practically the third stage, and acquired by moult. There are two stages in the plumage of the young bird after the downy stage, acquired without a moult, and which are quite distinct from the autumn bird.

Redshank, Totanus calidris. (Stelkur.)—In fair numbers in many districts. I obtained adult male and female and downy young. My adults are very heavily barred, more so than any I have ever seen before, and have practically no white under parts.

Whimbrel, Numenius phæopus. (Spói.)—Another of the commonest of Iceland birds. Very bold and very noisy. I have seen these birds mobbing the Iceland Falcon. I made some fine studies of this bird, and shall be able to produce some striking pictures. The series I obtained is a very complete one, from eggs, and every stage of young, just hatched and grading up to full-fledged.

Arctic Tern, Sterna macrura. (Kria.)—Very abundant everywhere, and in some parts of the North in vast colonies. I found it far away in the interior—in the Reindeer districts. I made many studies of this bird, but must not touch upon them, as I am occupying far too much space already. I obtained adults, every possible stage of young, and a series of eggs.

Great Black-backed Gull, Larus marinus. (Svartbakur.)—Very common in the North, and sparingly in the interior. I did not trouble to procure any specimens.

Lesser Black-backed Gull, L. fuscus.—I saw this bird at Thorshavn, in the Færoes, and, in Iceland, one only in Nordfjord. I attached no importance to this, as again I did not know at the time that the bird had not been recorded for Iceland. It need not be suggested that my eyes deceived me, or my ears either, as I carry the Zeiss binoculars. I did not procure any specimens, as my guns were not unpacked.

Glaucous Gull, L. glaucus. (Grámáfur.)—It will strike some as being curious when I say that throughout all my wanderings I met with three specimens only of this bird, and they were immature. It is a bird not to be mistaken.

Kittiwake Gull, Rissa tridactyla. (Rita.)—Very abundant—in some places in vast numbers. As my series of this bird at home was complete, I did not trouble to procure many specimens. I brought one only. I noticed that there was only one of the primaries with a white spot.

Great Squa, Stercorarius catarrhactes. (Skúmur.)—I saw this bird many times, but did not procure any specimens. I ascertained the locality of a breeding haunt, but had no time to visit it.

Pomathorhine Squa, S. pomatorhinus. (Kjói.)—I saw a Squa in Seydisfjord with twisted feathers in the tail, which I concluded was this bird.

Richardson's Squa, S. crepidatus. (Kjói.)—Abundant. I detested the bird for its bullying propensities, but marvelled at its wonderful powers on the wing. I obtained an abundant series of the dark- and light-breasted ones, and every intermediate stage. These are not two forms; I believe it will be found that the white-breasted birds are simply completely adult, and that the bird needs several years to reach that stage. Young birds may mate with adults, and young birds may breed, as with some other Gulls. On dissection I found both males and females amongst both dark and light birds.

Razorbill, Alca torda. (Alka.)—Very common. I did not trouble to procure more than one specimen, as my series is complete.

Little Auk, Mergulus alle. (Haftirdill.)—I saw a flock of very small sharp-winged swimming birds on entering Eyjafjord, which must have been of this species.

Guillemot, Uria troile. (Langvia.)—Very common. I did not need any specimens.

Brünnich's Guillemot, U. bruennichi. (Stuttnefja.)—I visited some islands off the North coast in search of this bird, and it proved to be one of the most disastrous and unsatisfactory of all my journeys. I was too late for one thing, as the birds had all left the breeding rocks. I saw several on the sea, and recognized them at once by their slightly larger size, and black upper parts, as compared with the Common Guillemot. The fishermen confirmed me that they were Stuttnefja, and not Langvia. I tried to procure them with my 4-bore, but I was so numbed with cold fog, and the swell from the islands was so great, that I missed. In the boat I was almost up to my knees in water for many hours. I landed on one of the islands—a most difficult matter—and explored the top; while the physical features of the second island were so marvellous, that I do not regret having had to grope about a fog-bound sea until near one in the morning. Numbed with cold to the very marrow, soaking wet, and sick with hunger and fatigue, the only accommodation I could get on shore, at the wretched hut of the fisherman, was a basin of cold milk, and, thank heaven! a cup of hot coffee. I had to sleep in a hole in the ground, and next morning could get but a repetition of the cold milk and hot coffee. It was eight o'clock p.m. on the third day before I reached civilization and food. That fearful fog did not lift for four days, and I believe it was this same fog which led to the tragic suicide of the navigating lieutenant of H.M.S. 'Blonde,' the officers of which I had previously met at Husavick. I did not hear of this sad event until I returned to England.

Black Guillemot, U. grylle. (Teista.)—Very common. I procured adults only, and those were on the island above referred to.

Puffin, Fratercula arctica. (Lundi.)—Also very common. I procured one adult, and one young covered with down, from the top of this island. The nesting-holes were unusually long in which the birds were breeding, and it was a very difficult matter to get to the young.

Great Northern Diver, Colymbus glacialis. (Himbrimi.)—I found this bird distinctly rare in the North, and only saw about four specimens, two of which were on the coast. I obtained a splendid adult and two eggs.

Red-throated Diver, C. septentrionalis. (Lómur.)—This was the common species of Diver, and in one district I saw as many as twenty at one time. I obtained adult male and female, young in down, and young in first plumage.

Slavonian Grebe, Podicipes auritus. (Sefönd.)—Very abundant in some districts. I found no nests as actual floating structures; they were all built up from the bottom of the lake, until the surface of the water was reached. The commonest site was under a projecting mass of lava, without any surrounding vegetation, and the eggs could be distinctly seen a long distance away. I obtained a good series of adults, young just hatched, young half-grown, and nest and eggs.

Fulmar, Fulmarus glacialis. (Fylúngur.)—Plentiful at sea, but I did not visit any breeding haunt.

 

I was absent from Birmingham just over eight weeks. Eighteen days of this time was spent on board the Danish mail steamers during the outward and return journeys; so that I had actually less than six weeks on land in the North for collecting. During this time I procured 330 specimens of birds, a splendid series of nests, eggs, and down; skinned and preserved all my specimens, labelled them, and made elaborate separate notes on soft parts, and measurements. I wrote up my journal daily, when it was possible to do so, recording my observations upon the habits of birds, and the physical features of the wonderful land I was passing through, and the interesting type of people I met. These daily observations covered 530 pages of note-books. When it is remembered that several of my journeys after one particular species of bird occupied two and three days, and that I was constantly in the saddle, and covered great distances almost daily, it will be readily understood that I had not a single idle moment. Indeed, I gave myself only about half my usual time for sleep. The unbroken daylight was of great assistance to me, and I was strong and vigorous for each day's labours, although I might have been hard at work until 3 or 4 a.m. Towards the close, however, I became so utterly worn out with the unceasing strain, that I felt that I could not continue without a period of rest, and, as previously stated, resolved to return home. The whole journey was studded with stirring adventure, and I had several narrow escapes from losing my life, both by drowning and other causes.

It is a pleasure to me to be enabled to state that the bodies of every bird I shot and recovered are made into good skins or mounted specimens, and were needed for the series I was preparing. Not a single bird was needlessly shot; and never for only cooking purposes. I regret that many bodies were lost, but through no fault of mine. This was when birds fell through cracks in the lava, or, in the case of the Harlequin Ducks, when they were carried away by the mad rush of water in the rapids.

The careful mounting of the 330 birds occupied me, after my return, together with other work intervening, over twelve months; another important and laborious task in connection with the Baylis collection occupied still another twelve months; hence the delay in publishing this report.

I feel that I ought not to bring this paper to a close without tendering my earnest thanks to those who assisted in my expedition; and, first of all, a tribute to the memory of F.W.W. Howell, who, alas! lost his life this year (1901) while crossing one of the treacherous Icelandic rivers. I met Mr. Howell quite accidentally about two months prior to my departure for Iceland. We were total strangers, but it was through his kindly and generously tendered advice that many obstacles which others had magnified into insurmountable ones were smoothed away, and my course made so clear and plain that I had no hesitation whatever in starting on my journey. Mr. Howell was a strictly conscientious man; he loved Iceland, and laboured hard to open it up to the outside world. His untimely loss will be deplored by none more sincerely than by the Icelanders themselves, who have lost a true well-wisher.

My friend Mr. Henry Cox kindly undertook at the last moment, and when pressure was heaviest upon me, the entire management of the all-important ammunition department; while Mr. W.T. Wilson, of philatelist fame, gave much valuable information on baggage, pack-boxes (special), and provisions.

Dr. Bowdler Sharpe and others at the British Museum I thank for their kindly consideration in naming some of my specimens. To my chief guide and interpreter, Sigurdur Samarlidason, my unstinted praises are due. He worked assiduously, and, when he fully grasped the character of my undertaking, never wearied of making inquiries wherever we went for information which would be useful to me. To the Icelanders generally, in those districts I visited, my warmest thanks are given for their courtesy and kindliness; they all worked heartily to further my interests, their one desire appearing to be to send me back with as perfect a collection as possible.

The journey has left brilliant memories for me, and I trust that I shall be enabled to redeem my promise, and pay another visit to this paradise of the North.

 

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1. As a matter of fact, throughout all my wanderings I made incessant inquiries, but only found one shepherd-boy who had ever actually seen the bird, and that was near where I saw my solitary specimen.
2. Since the above was written I have examined the collection at Tring and Dr. Hartert points out to me that the Greenland form has a very large bill.
3. 'Ibis,' 1895, p. 237.
4. In the nest was a tiny egg, which the Icelanders averred was the last the bird would ever lay.