The snow-bunting, or snowflake, as it is also called, breeds regularly in some localities in the Highlands of Scotland, and may therefore be regarded as an indigenous species; but the birds breeding within British limits are only a few pairs, and the snow-bunting is best known as a winter visitor from more northern regions. They appear on our coasts in the month of October, sometimes in immense flocks, to pass the winter, for the most part in the neighbourhood of the sea, seeking their food in fields and on waste lands. Occasionally these flocks penetrate to the more inland districts. Being very pretty and lively little birds, they are great favourites in the places they visit; and their appearance is all the more welcome on account of the desolate aspect of nature in the districts where they are most abundant. Many ornithologists have written lovingly about the snow-bunting. Thus, Saxby says: ‘Seen against a dark hillside or a lowering sky, a flock of these birds presents an exceedingly beautiful appearance, and it may then be seen how aptly the term “snowflake” has been applied to the species. I am acquainted with no more pleasing combination of sight and sound than that afforded when a cloud of these birds, backed by a dark grey sky, descends, as it were, in a shower to the ground, to the music of their own sweet, tinkling notes.’ The fullest, and by far the most interesting, account ever given of the snow-bunting is by Seebohm. He says that in its habits it is the most arctic of the small birds, breeding as far north as latitude 82° 33´. Its appearance is thus described: ‘In sledging over the snow across the steppes of South-western Siberia from Ekaterranburg to Tomsk, a distance of about a thousand miles, the snow-bunting was the only bird we saw, except a few sparrows, jackdaws, and hooded crows near the villages. The snow-buntings were in small flocks, and many of them had almost lost their winter dress. It was a charming sight to watch them flitting before the sledge, as we disturbed them at their meals. Sometimes, in the sunshine, their white bodies were invisible against the white snow, and we could almost fancy that a flock of black butterflies was dancing before us. The flight of the snow-bunting is peculiar, and is somewhat like that of a butterfly, as if the bird altered its mind every few seconds as to which direction it wished to take.’ Of its song he says: ‘Whilst the female is busy with the duties of incubation the male sings freely, sometimes as he sits upon the top of a rock, but often flinging himself into the air like a shuttlecock, and then descending in a spiral curve, with wings and tail expanded, singing all the time. The song is a low and melodious warbling, not unlike that of the shore-lark.’