Chapter XII: Hunting and Animal Life in East Greenland.75

The Polar bear.--Its aliment.--Migration of the bears.--Natural
History notes on the Polar bear.--Its curiosity.--Precautions
to be adopted in bear-hunting.--Their powerful vital
energy.--Sundry matters.--Arctic foxes.--Their natural
history.--The reindeer.--The musk-ox.--The walrus.--The
seal.--The Arctic hare.--Birds.--Sea animals, &c.

Hunting often begins in Greenland, where it ends with us--in self-defence; but it possesses scientific interest for the zoologist, and the food obtained by it enables the explorer to remain longer away from the ship.

There is the zoological, the geographical, and the pleasure hunt; the latter is of the least frequent occurrence.

Hunting the bear or the walrus is attended with considerable danger; that of the musk-ox, reindeer, fox, birds, and sea-animals affords only amusement.

The polar bear,[76] which, with his yellowish-white shaggy skin and black nose, forms a sharp contrast against the snow-fields at a long distance off, weighs from ten to twelve hundredweight, and far surpasses in size those specimens in zoological gardens or menageries (which are brought over young, and developed under such unfavourable circumstances); it is surpassed by neither the lion nor the tiger in point of strength, and is quite as dangerous. But the cold zone in which it lives[77] cools its blood; it is wary and mistrustful. The contradictory reports of their courage shows that one must never judge one specimen by another, but that each individual is guided by its need of food at the moment.

It lives chiefly on seals, watching for them through the ice-fissures, and falls upon them whilst sunning themselves, with all the cunning of the tiger, and the same stealthy step. It also pursues the seal even when diving, for it is a powerful swimmer, and only the reindeer excels it in speed. Over jagged rocky declivities it climbs with cat-like dexterity. The roughness of its soles, its claws, and hairy paws, insure its safety equally on smooth or sloping ice-surfaces. Payer skinned the hind-feet of a bear we had killed, carefully cleaned them from all fat, rubbed them with alum, and wore them himself--they were beautiful warm stockings, for the bear had good soles. Unfortunately they were lost in a fire on board during the winter.

As the seals remain chiefly among the pack-ice, or on its outer edge, so also the bear during the summer is a frequent visitor. It follows the seal-hunters step for step, in order to devour the skinned animals, or when revelling in excess swims to the carcase of a whale. The bear kills its prey before eating it, although it likes to play with it first. It rides on the floes in the Arctic current down to Iceland. It is often seen miles from land, and swims towards boats or ships, until driven back by shots. When glutted with the enjoyment of fat seals it varies its diet by ducks’ eggs, and a few hours is quite enough for it to clear a small island entirely.

It is certainly hard for the Arctic traveller to be exposed to the tender mercies of a bear’s two-inch incisors; but a gun, and a pocket filled with cartridges, are a much more simple process than dragging a dead seal about after one. If you are unarmed, the slightest movement disquiets the bear, and provokes him to action. But it is a much more serious matter to meet him in the darkness, and be mistaken for a seal, a mistake only cleared up when it is too late. If you are armed, the coolness of his adversary inspires the bear with a certain amount of respect.

But the bear also deserves our compassion. His life is one continued pursuit of food, although he is protected from the cold by a layer of fat several inches thick. Once we found in the stomach of one that had belonged to a besieging corps (which during the whole of the winter and spring had watched the frozen ship closely, and had forced us to be wonderfully cautious), nothing but a flannel lappet, which our tailor had thrown away, and in the case of many others it was quite empty. Sometimes the stomach of a dead bear contains nothing but water, and large pieces of sea-weed (_Laminaria_), so that hunger compels it to eat herbs. It is certainly no trifle in this world of frost, cold, and darkness, with its horrible snow-storms, that mountains only can offer sufficient obstacles to his wanderings for food amidst the chaotic crowding and towering ice-fields, surrounded by fissures, or floating out to sea on an ice-floe. Certainly its brown cousin in Europe lives in luxury compared with him, and is comparatively to be envied.

In the early part of the year the layer of fat, which lies under the skin in the summer and autumn, quite fails. A large male bear, killed near the ship on the 1st of April, 1870, was dreadfully lean; while a female bear, shot on Sabine Island, the 7th of July, 1870, was rather fat.

With regard to the much agitated question as to whether the bear hybernates, we could make no direct observation. But we can say at what time of year we saw them. On the 10th of January, 1870, one came to the ship, and we hunted him, but he escaped; on the 13th of January, 1870, Theodore Klentzer was pursued by one; on the 6th of March, Dr. Börgen was attacked by another; afterwards they visited us daily. When I add that Copeland fought with one near Cape Borlase Warren, on the 28th of October, 1869, one may easily see that their winter sleep, if they have any, must either be very short or very disturbed. On the 9th of March we saw a bear in a storm, wandering about with powerful strides, and seeming to think nothing of the bad weather, although a man, protected by the best of clothes, could scarcely have moved from the spot.

The bear which we shot on the 1st of April, about 300 steps from the ship, cost us the greatest exertions to drag away against the north wind.

The smell of burnt fat draws the creatures from miles round. In their wanderings they climb high groups of ice, and one can sometimes see them looking far out, with their snouts in the air, smelling for food. The Esquimaux often catch them by it,--a manœuvre, which requires cleverness and self-possession: and many of them bear marks of the battle fought under such circumstances. Head wounds excepted, a shot will sometimes take away all power of resistance in the strangest manner. Meetings with bears are attended by very different results. It often happens that a party of sledge travellers, under peculiar circumstances, and with but little time to spare, pass one, or more of them, sometimes but a few steps off, when they cause no other feeling than that of curiosity and astonishment.

Krauschner, the engineer, was the snow-purveyor for the kitchen, and had to go twice a day with his sledge to the neighbouring glacier. Once a bear attached himself to him. He walked with dignified steps as an escort behind the sledge, and not until the engineer had reached the ship did our shout of alarm make him aware of the presence of his somewhat doubtful friend.

On the whole, the flesh of the bear (particularly that of the old animals) is far inferior to that of the brown bear. It is coarse and tough, and tastes more or less of train oil. Barentz and many others maintain that the liver is prejudicial to health. The flesh, however, we have always found wholesome, and the Esquimaux west of Davis Straits give it to their dogs.

Sometimes, on our sledge journeys, we were surprised in the tent; but we never set a thorough watch, chiefly because we none of us really slept, and a large creature like that could not approach without a slight rustle.

A tent is to a bear thoroughly unintelligible, and an object alike of mistrust and curiosity. One of Kane’s companions, who was roused by the growling of a bear and the appearance of its head through the aperture of the tent, had the presence of mind to put a lighted box of lucifer-matches under his nose, an insult which he magnanimously forgave, and disappeared at once.

Our first meeting with one was on the 4th of August, among the pack-ice, the day before we landed in Greenland. We had laid to by a large ice-floe, when about 300 steps from us we saw two bears. The burning of seals’ fat had drawn their attention, for their black nozzles were high in the air, though they were shy of approaching the ship. Copeland, Sengstacke, and Payer got into the boat, and under cover of the steep floe, rowed towards them; but the newly-formed ice, which filled a creek in the floe, only admitted of Payer’s landing. He shot hurriedly and missed, and they at once disappeared among the hummocks.

It is not advisable to approach such a powerful enemy, unless he is completely disabled. We met with bears which stood as firm as a rock against the shot, although at every bullet they quivered violently, and streams of blood flowed from them.[78]

Void of all fat, and hungry, these beasts of prey haunted the coast, until upon discovering the ship, the movements of the men at once drew their attention, and they never left the neighbourhood of Griper Roads (the name of the winter harbour). Whoever went into the open air, though only a few steps from the ship, during the long polar night, required his gun at half-cock. One night the engineer, as he came on deck, heard a great rustle; and in the morning footprints showed that a bear had advanced over the snow to the tent.

These besiegers also paid repeated visits to our provisions on land; but they played our astronomers the worst trick, for they carried off the measuring apparatus for deciding the length of the base. The greatest evil for sledge-travellers is, that however important a depôt they may make for provisions, they can never leave it secure from these _feræ_ of the ice. The best way is to hang a sack upon an inaccessible wall of rock. The strength which the bears possess in digging out anything that is buried is astonishing. Covering over with frozen sand and water is better than the heaviest stone, because it blunts the bear’s claws.

In spite of their great numbers seldom more than three (and that a family) are ever seen together.[79] It is always well understood that the old ones must be killed first, for a she-bear deprived of her cubs is a terrible adversary. If they are only wounded, she pushes them before her or defends them with her own body, though a cub will never hesitate to devour the flesh of its mother.

The ice-fields of its native home are pleasant to the bear, and it will not willingly part from them.

The whaler “Bienenkorb,” which we visited in 1869, had one in a cage on deck; and when, from the strong motion of the ship, it caught sight of the ice, it began to howl dismally. Indeed, the sight of the drift-ice worked so powerfully on the creature, that they were at last obliged to hang a veil of sail-cloth before the cage.

On the 23rd of August, on our return voyage, we saw through the pack-ice, half hidden by the fog, the three last bears, and as it fell they seemed to be taking leave of us in a stage tableau.

The Arctic fox (_Canis lagopus_, L.[80]) is a very interesting species of its genus. It is either (and that irrespective of the time of year) bluish white or grey.[81] Its coat, which is wonderfully soft, forms an article of commerce with the Hudson’s Bay Company. It is considerably smaller in bulk than the polar hare, which, when grown up, generally weighs eight pounds and three-quarters. Its flesh is no delicacy. Barentz, and since him several other Arctic travellers, have, however, found it enjoyable, and we (Pansch and Copeland) did our best to eat it.

The Arctic fox has, with but few exceptions, none of the cunning attributed to our own Reynard. At least our recollections of it (except in one or two cases) are of a most harmless character. During the winter we succeeded in catching some after the manner of the Esquimaux. Once one was taken out of the trap and laid down for dead, but after a time it sprang up and rushed away. For the young ducks, for which it has a great weakness, the fox is a bitter enemy. It lives upon anything it can get in winter, even shell-fish and other saltwater produce which is brought by the tide on to the strand-ice. In the summer lemmings seem to be its chief food.

Nearly the whole of the winter and spring we kept some prisoners in the engine-room; in such close proximity to the coals they all turned black. Two of them died of tubercles on the lungs. A beautiful grey fox had to be garotted in the cabin for refractoriness; another was set free, and the last deserted the cage that we had made it and put upon the ice near the ship. This desertion, which was brought about by the melting and falling down of the block of ice on which the cage stood, and which we all witnessed from the deck, had something particularly comical about it. The fox, which had almost waned away to a skeleton, began to stretch himself, then to stick out his bushy tail like a broom, wriggled his lanky body into a pool of water, and lastly, as elegantly as a dancing-master and as if longing for liberty, started off, without deigning to cast another look at the ship.

The European fox shuns mankind, but the Greenland fox seeks his society in perfect innocence, and without any suspicion, for it hopes to profit by him. It is the first, after a fortunate day’s hunting, to show its astonishment, and also hasten to enjoy the spoil, as well as steal a reindeer ham from the sledge in the night, and carry it away. It accompanies him on hunting and sledge journeys at a respectful distance, and employs his time of rest in visiting, opening, and plundering the sack of provisions. An ice-bound ship it watches with great favour, for there is always some lucky chance bringing him chance of profit, and things which can easily be carried away. Indeed, it is so accustomed to spunging upon others that it is often difficult to make him ashamed of himself.

If, after hours of constant gnawing, or, when in company with others, his envious snarling, one goes out of the tent to stop his tugging at the ropes, instead of going away humbly, he looks boldly into his benefactor’s face, barks at the firing, and goes off reluctantly.

At other times they come curiously trotting along, not allowing themselves to be frightened by the firing, and a piece of bacon-rind will entice them to follow the sledge for miles. It is a troublesome piece of work to skin a fox newly killed, in the icy cold; its warm skin forming a warmer neck-tie on that account.

The Greenland reindeer (_Tarandus rangifer_, L., var. _Groenlandicus_) differs at least from the American, Laplandish, and Spitzbergen species. Its horns are not shovelled at the tips, like theirs; they are also more upright. It carries its head and neck high; its whole build is elegant, and reminds one, in every respect, of the European deer. Kane and Hayes also met with them in the most northerly parts of West Greenland. Our excursions taught us that they increase in numbers towards the interior of the country; indeed, at the back of Kaiser Franz-Joseph Fjord, in the neighbourhood of a glacier remarkable for its luxuriant vegetation, we came upon a tolerably good footpath trodden by the reindeer.

The musk-ox,[82] properly speaking, the sheep-ox (_Ovibos moschatus_, Blainv.), is somewhat smaller than the European ox. Its threatening appearance is quite in contrast to its harmless nature; its colour is black; its hair long, and falling in rough manes, though on its back is some wool, not to be surpassed in fineness.[83] Payer pulled out the wool of three that were killed, on Kuhn Island, to wrap up a number of fossils in, for transportation, and took a careful sketch of one of the most stately. Its eyes are particularly small.

As the name implies, the creature is distinguished according to its age, some more, some less, by the smell of musk in its flesh and fat; to which, however, one can as easily accustom oneself as to the smell of train oil. Its flesh, upon the whole, greatly resembles that of our own ox.[84] The first we saw and killed was on Shannon Island, in August, 1869. As we did not then know this animal, we made the strangest guesses, comparing it to a gnu.

Like the reindeer, it lives on vegetable food, which is scanty enough here.

Scarcely anywhere in Greenland does the Flora suffice to change the face of the soil; at the utmost, it only serves to shade it. Moss, lichen, greyish-green grasses, ranunculus, saxifrage, &c., form meagre solitary patches amongst the weather-beaten stone heaps. Here and there the plains are covered with birch bushes, a few inches high (the stems of which are often no thicker than a lucifer-match), also with bilberry-bushes, but more often with sallows, creeping along the ground.

Almost every species of the Flora of the plain, especially the garden-poppy, did we find on mountains from 1625 to 3250 feet high. On the summit of a rock 7495 feet high grew, near the well-known black and yellow lichen, known everywhere in the European Alps as the last representative of vegetation, a long, fibrous kind of moss.

The greater summer warmth of the rocky interior of the country insures there a more varied Flora. Former Esquimaux settlements, if only covering a few square fathoms, were at once recognizable from their light green colour, caused by constant manuring. Meadows, in our sense of the term, were nowhere to be seen.

How far north the musk-ox and the reindeer are found we can scarcely decide. The first we met in 77° N. Lat., and the last only in 75°. The scanty means of existence afforded by the soil compel them to constant wanderings.

Both animals are almost always met with in herds, sometimes of from twenty to thirty head. The greatest number of reindeer we ever saw were about 100 to 200 head, on a hilly ground to the west of Cape Broer Ruys; and the greatest number of musk-oxen in the brown-coal district of Kuhn Island. To the former we gave battle.

Their behaviour towards the hunter is in no way similar. The reindeer approaches him at a brisk trot, full of curiosity, to within a few steps; indeed, sometimes they come quite close to him. The musk-ox remains as if rooted to the spot, staring at the strange, unknown enemy, and arrives very slowly at a resolution.

At Cape Philip-Broke four of them most humbly condescended to play with Payer by pretending to carry off his portable table. Older animals stand fire most coolly, even after being wounded, and amuse themselves by defending the most exposed part by putting down their heads, which is their invulnerable part. One of them once received a shot from a Wanzl-gun on his mailed forehead without showing the slightest annoyance. The ball fell a flattened disc on to the ground!

If a family, or a herd with young ones, are surprised, they either form a square (the young being in the centre, and the old outside, with their heads down), or else the bull, placed as a sentinel, takes to flight, and the others follow closely, the placing of their outposts being astonishing. They are also excellent climbers. A retreating herd climbed a snow-path at an incline of not less than 45° on a high mountain near our winter harbour, and to our great astonishment we saw one looking down upon us from between the craggy walls of Cape Hamburg.[85] At the first shot a herd of approaching reindeer will make a spring and then stand terrified; the next shot, or the fall of one of them, puts them to flight. It costs something thus to dispel their innocent confidence.

Once a reindeer ran hurriedly over the land to a boat that was landing. It stood close to us on the shore, with its head stretched out, and its large soft eyes watching us confidingly. One of us sprang hastily on shore, and it ran off. Another time a number of them came close to the tent. But a scene took place, which many of our hunting friends would envy us, in a herd near Cape Bennet, in August, 1870. We had just left our boat, which we were going to load with seven carcasses which we had killed some days before and left behind; but unfortunately they had all turned bad, as we had neglected to open them. Suddenly there came from twenty to thirty head over the mountain-slope, and upon reaching a snow-field all lay down, enticed by the refreshing coolness and our own example, as we had just done the same thing. As, however, we started to continue our journey, the front guard of the reindeer rose to do the same; but it happened that one of them--evidently the leader--seemed displeased that the greater number took no notice of the movement, as they desired to have a little more rest; so it stopped the others, turned back, and went to each animal separately, pushing it with its horns, until they all stood up and began their march together to a new grazing-place. The flesh of the reindeer is good, though somewhat soft and spongy.

It is plain that these creatures were very useful to us, and that without them we should often have been in a sad predicament. Unfortunately, our furthest and most productive hunt took place shortly before we left Greenland, and over against the island Jan-Mayen. We had to throw more than a thousand pounds of reindeer and musk-oxen flesh overboard, as the rising of the temperature beyond the pack-ice, together with the damp, turned it all bad.

If any creature deserves the name of monster, it is the walrus. It is from 9 feet 6 inches to 16 feet 6 inches long, weighs about 20 cwt., and its skin is 3½ inches thick (a sort of massive coat of mail), with a head of infinite ugliness, rather large eyes, and tusks sometimes 30 inches long (of a sort of ivory), which helps the creature to obtain his food (chiefly mussels) from the bottom of the sea, and, together with the breast-fins, help him to climb on to the floating ice to a place of rest. Round his jaws are long cat-like bristles, as thick as a large darning-needle. Demoniacal as his appearance is, his voice is as bad--a jerking, imitative scream, lowing and puffing, often repeated, and in which it seems to delight. Walruses and seals, from their richness in train-oil, are highly estimated in the Arctic fishery, and are invaluable to the Esquimaux--indeed, in many cases when, either from the blocking up of the coast with ice or the retreating of the herd, they have been unable to catch any, they have almost died of hunger. One way the Esquimaux have of killing the seals is to approach them by degrees with a white screen, behind which they crouch, and another by lying in ambush amongst the ice and harpooning them.

One of the largest walruses that we saw was killed on the ice, near Shannon, on the 27th of August, 1869, by Dr. Copeland. It measured 9 feet 11 inches in length. The skin is particularly flexible and soft, and the leather we used for straps for the machinery.

The time it remains under water depends (I think) upon the time the creature has had for preparation. If a walrus is suddenly hunted from his sleep into the water, it must rise again immediately to the surface. Now it takes a deep breath. If it is again hunted, it comes up again; if this is repeated five or six times, the walrus then seems to be provided with a store, for now it dives in reality, and is seldom seen again.

Walrus-hunting is very dangerous, for in its fury this animal can break through ice six inches thick. If, therefore, it is not met with on strong old ice, it is necessary to change one’s place very quickly, for (as is the case with all mammals) the walrus is obliged to come to the surface of cracks, or ice-holes, kept open for the purpose, in order to breathe every ten minutes. The animals notice exactly the direction and the distance of their enemy, and emerge at the spot to meet and destroy him. Returning from the sledge journey from Tiroler Fjord, we had abundant opportunity of proving this.

Contrasted with its ferocity in the water there is nothing more innocent and harmless than a herd of walruses sunning themselves on an ice-floe or the shore, or, indeed, sleeping on the water; but unfortunately the comparison with a torpedo (which, for fear of some accident, one dares not touch) is only too well founded. A single ice-floe often bears twenty and sometimes a much larger number of these creatures, their dark, sphynx-like bodies lying close together; the head, from their long tusks, leaning sideways or upon one another; and thus they sleep away the greater part of their existence in the sun, lulled by the rushing and roaring of the breakers. The walrus, surprised on shore or on an ice-field, is utterly helpless; and although it strikes furiously on all sides with its teeth, is just as harmless as it is terrible when its anger is roused in the water. One peculiarity, which under some circumstances may be very dangerous, is its great curiosity.

Should one of these monsters see a boat, it raises itself astonished above the surface, utters at once a cry of alarm, swimming towards it as quickly as possible. This call brings up others, awakens the sleepers which the boat had carefully avoided, and in a short time the small vessel is followed by a number of these monsters, blustering in apparent or real fury in all their hideousness. The creatures may possibly be only actuated by curiosity, but their manner of showing it is unfortunately so ill-chosen that one feels obliged to act on the defensive. The bellowing, jerking, and diving herd is now but a short distance from the boat. The first shot strikes, and this inflames their wrath, and now begins a wild fight in which some of the black sphynxes are struck with axes on the flappers, with which they threaten to overturn the boat. Others of the men defend themselves with a spear or with the blade of an oar.

Often, from some unknown cause, these creatures turn suddenly from the fight, jerking and diving under water, and when at some distance, turn their ugly heads to look back, and fill the air with their vindictive grunts.

In the summer of 1869 a boat excursion to Cape Wynn with difficulty escaped the destruction of their craft. Another time they were followed by a herd and succeeded in reaching the shore of an island, where, though only for a short time, they were blockaded in. The longer you live in Arctic regions the less can you persuade yourself to attack these creatures in their own element, unless forced by pressing circumstances, i. e., want of either food or of oil, and then it is advisable, if in boats, to provide oneself with cartridges. The most successful hunt is when these creatures are surprised on the ice-floes. When approaching very near them, the oars are shipped and the boat noiselessly landed. The hunters get upon the floe behind the creature, but scarcely does one raise its head in contempt and anger than all the others wake up, and the whole herd press forward, pushing the young ones with them to the edge of the floe, where they turn head foremost into the water. Only this short time is at the hunter’s disposal, and his shots must be quick and true. Should one of the young ones be killed, the mother carries it with her flappers, challenging her enemies to fight, with a fierce look. A walrus once killed is quickly made fast by a rope to the boat before it sinks. The weight of these creatures is so enormous that two of them which we had hoisted on to the same side of the deck gave it a decided inclination.

We were obliged to eat seals as well as walrus, and that too (more often than not) raw. Their flesh has a strong flavour of train oil; that of the latter is almost black, the liver a beautiful violet. Both creatures have the extraordinary habit of occasionally swallowing stones. The seal is from three to six feet long, perfectly harmless and defenceless. It is cautious and suspicious and will dive for the slightest cause. Indeed, its apish face, with its peculiar expression of curiosity, is in and out of the water every minute.

Seals, too, live in herds. Seal-hunters often find hundreds on one ice-floe. Whilst they sleep or sun themselves they set a watch, which being killed, the whole herd may often be taken. A seal hunt is carried on in different ways; the most successful is with clubs. Their skull is very weak. Our bullets had the effect of blowing them to pieces. The most fruitful ground for seal-hunting is the neighbourhood of Newfoundland and the lonely island of Jan Mayen, lying within the Arctic Circle. In southern latitudes they rarely appear. When dead they sink very quickly.

To the Esquimaux, the seal and walrus are of universal utility. They cut straps out of their skin, make dresses, finish their boats, cover the floors and walls of their snow-huts; their bones they use for the repair of their sledges and weapons, their fat as fuel, and their flesh for food: in a word, where Esquimaux exist, seal and walrus are eaten.

The European hare is remarkable for its long and rapid hasty flight, and its timidity. The Greenland hare (_Lepus glacialis_), on the contrary, sits as if nailed down in its rocky refuge, however near the hunter may pass to him. Sometimes one sees the mountain slopes dotted with white spots, which from their motionlessness might be taken for snow; but they are only white hares. They are about the size of our own hares; but their flesh, like that of the Alpine hare, is insipid. Hare-hunting in Greenland often gives rise to the drollest scenes. Their hearing appears to be even weaker than their sight. Payer once stood near a hare, which was startled by repeated firing, but had confined its flight to a few steps. The creature was nibbling the moss quietly. Payer took out his sketch-book, and drew it in all the different positions which, in its uneasiness at the conversation and laughter of his companions, it assumed.

The peculiar species of wolf met with in other Arctic neighbourhoods is not found in East Greenland; neither is the wolf-like dog, now dying out from disease, and upon which the existence of the Esquimaux in East Greenland is completely dependent.

Brown, in his Fauna of Greenland, believes that the dogs brought by Torell from Greenland to Spitzbergen in 1861, to work the sledges (a plan frustrated by the sea being found open), would increase rapidly, and return to the original wolf-type.

They are also unknown in the north of Europe, and like the ice-bear, fox, and reindeer, are peculiar to the Arctic Circle.

The remaining Fauna of this country--lemmings, butterflies, a species of bee, spiders, and gnats (the latter at certain times of the year, and in particular neighbourhoods, being a perfect plague), all possess a high zoological interest; but they lie beyond the descriptive limits of a Greenland hunt.

Interesting, too, is the more or less periodical return of a large number of birds which animate the Arctic world; some for only the summer weeks, and some for the whole year, such as ptarmigan and ravens (both of which remain through the winter); a number of screaming birds--most of which are species of gulls distinguished by their greediness--such as the auks, the divers, and above all, the eider ducks. These cling like so many white spots to the clefted rock, screaming to each other or sitting in a circle on the edge of a floe.

A short early ice-covering of the coast water, indicating the close of a fleeting summer, has many embarrassments for them: and soon the far greater part accept the signal for emigration to southern regions.

The west coast of Greenland is much richer in birds than the east coast. Our share was therefore proportionately small. The flesh of Arctic birds has, doubtless owing to the nature of their food, a strong taste of train-oil.

The Arctic Sea is inhabited, besides small fish, by numberless creatures of lower development (_Crustacea_, &c.), which serve for food to the gigantic inhabitants of the same element, such as the Greenland whale, the fin-backed whale, and the narwhal.