THE ARCTIC VISITORS.
"Help me catch these wounded ones!" cried Tug, dancing round in chase
of several wing-tipped and lame birds that were floundering in the
snow.
The others rushed after them too, and it was exciting sport, for the
chase often led them into deep drifts and down the scraggy sides of
the hummock; it thus became the scene of many comical tumbles and
failures, for several of the birds, having been shot as they crowded
together in a bunch, were only slightly wounded, and able to make a
vigorous attempt to escape. Rex took part also, but his work consisted
chiefly in barking himself hoarse, for all he accomplished was the
finding of one dead bird; and this, as he was not a retriever, he
devoured on the spot.
When, panting, red-faced, and tired out, they gathered again at the
door, they counted up seventeen fat buntings and one long-spur as the
result of the three shots. Three of these were badly mangled, and were
given to Rex; the others they began at once to make into a stew for
supper, which they always ate about sundown. This meal also took the
place of a dinner, as they ate only "a bite" at noon.
While they were plucking the birds--and their bodies seemed wofully
small when the thick coat of feathers had been removed--they asked Tug
many questions about the buntings. He could not answer all of them,
but the substance of what he told them was this:
The snow-buntings--white snow-birds, or snow-flakes--belong to the far
northern regions, where they go in summer to make their nests, often
within the arctic circle. As soon as their young are able to fly they
must begin their southward migration, for the excessive cold and the
deep snow cut off all the grass-seeds, mosses, and insects upon which
they feed in summer. So they begin to spread southward, not into
British America alone, but also into Lapland and Russia, and the lower
parts of Siberia. The bird seems to be a lover of cold, and used to
scant fare and the roughest climate. It is not always, therefore, that
they are to be seen in the United States south of the Great Lakes.
Around these lakes, however, they are likely to come in large flocks
after a cold snap or a deep fall of snow. The wild rice tracts and
frozen marshes afford them an abundance of seeds and dried berries,
upon which they grow fat. Though seeming less in danger than most
other birds, since our hawks are gone southward, these buntings are
exceedingly restless and timid, which makes them scurry away at the
least alarm. Yet their timidity is not enough to insure their safety,
for though they are constantly rising up and settling again, their
flights are so short and uncertain that, as we have seen, a good
marksman has no difficulty in shooting them. They are so small,
however, that in this country of large game-birds they are never shot
for food unless a necessity like the present one compels it. With the
first bit of warm weather the snow-buntings and their companions, the
long-spurs, whirl away to the bleak northward, crowding close upon the
heels of Winter as he retreats to his polar stronghold.
In the cool mountainous parts of the Far West there are several
species of birds closely akin to the snow-flake, whose summer homes
are among the peaks. They belong to the same genus (_Plectrophanes_),
but none of them are so white as the Eastern bunting; in fact, like
the ptarmigan, he is pure white only in midwinter, changing in summer
to a dress much mottled with warm brown and black, traces of which
remain in his winter hood and collar.
"What do you suppose brought the snow-flakes away out hither on the
ice?" Tug was asked.
"Oh, we're not so far from land--though we might as well be a hundred
miles away for all the good it will do us!--and I suppose they were
flying across to the marshes and islands on the north shore. Probably
our smoke attracted them."
Having got done with their birds, the boys returned to their chopping.
Two or three large pieces were hacked out as back-logs to build their
fire upon, instead of making it right on the ice; and since this last
load was not needed in the wall, which had been banked up anew, it was
spread around on the floor of the house to lift their canvas carpet
above the chilly and often wet floor, for the weather was not cold
enough now to keep it frozen always hard and dry under the tent.
Evening came, and with it a feeling of homelike comfort queer to think
about, yet not quite impossible under the circumstances, forlorn and
dangerous as they were. The boys perched themselves on the gunwale of
the boat, and watched Katy making snow-bird stew and steeping the
fragrant tea.
Then, how good it tasted! What a royal change from steady bacon and
crackers, or tough dried beef, and water!
"I wonder if they'll come again?" said Aleck, examining his friend's
gun. "Costs a heap o' powder, though, and the noise scares them. Say,
Tug, don't you know how to build traps?"
"I could make a figure four," piped Jim, "if I had the box."
"Guess we could manage that. Ugh! what a frightful smoke!"
"I should say so," added Katy, rubbing her smarting eyes. "I think, if
you would punch a hole under the wall, there would be a better
draught. That hole in the corner of the roof don't make a very fine
chimney."
Tug took his ramrod and worked the snow away from a crevice at the
foot of the wall, near the floor. The cooler air outside sucked in to
take the place of the heated air within, which ascended to the hole at
the edge of the roof, and a draught was set in motion, taking enough
of the smoke out to make the place endurable while they ate their
supper.
How good that bird soup was! And what fun they had, eating it out of
their tin cups with wooden spoons! There was only one bowl for the
tea, which had to be passed around for each to drink from in turn.
They forgot their difficulties for a little while, and were as merry
as anybody could be. All at once Katy stopped short in a laugh, with
an exclamation of astonishment:
"I do believe we've never one of us thought what day it is! This is
Christmas eve!"
The evening was given to chatting, as they sat in the darkness half
illumined by the red embers of their fire, for they wanted to save
their lantern oil, and would not allow themselves to burn it
uselessly; nor was it late when they went to sleep.