The absence of all trees or shrubs, or even of all vigorous herbage, imparts a character of the deepest solitude to the Nova Zembla landscape, and inspires even the rough sailor with a kind of religious awe. “It is,” says Von Baer, “as if the dawn of creation had but just begun, and life were still to be called into existence.” The universal silence is but rarely broken by the noise of an animal. But neither the cry of the sea-mew, wheeling in the air, nor the rustling of the lemming in the stunted herbage are able to animate the scene. No voice is heard in calm weather. The rare land-birds are silent as well as the insects, which are comparatively still fewer in number. This tranquillity of nature, particularly during serene days, reminds the spectator of the quiet of the grave; and the lemmings seem like phantoms as they glide noiselessly from burrow to burrow. In our fields even a slight motion of the air becomes visible in the foliage of the trees or in the waving of the corn; here the low plants are so stiff and immovable that one might suppose them to be painted. The rare sand-bee (Andrena), which on sunny days and in warm places flies about with languid wings, has scarcely the spirit to hum, and the flies and gnats, though more frequent, are equally feeble and inoffensive.
As a proof of the rarity of insects in Nova Zembla, Von Baer mentions that not a single larva was to be found in a dead walrus which had been lying at least fourteen days on the shore. The hackneyed phrase of our funeral sermons can not therefore be applied to these high latitudes, where even above the earth the decay of bodies is extremely slow.
However poor the vegetation of Nova Zembla may be, it still suffices to nourish a number of lemmings, which live on leaves, stems, and buds, but not on roots. The slopes of the mountains are often undermined in all directions by their burrows. Next to these lemmings, the Arctic foxes are the most numerous quadrupeds, as they find plenty of food in the above-mentioned little rodents, as well as in the young birds, and in the bodies of the marine animals which are cast ashore by the tides. White bears are scarcely ever seen during the summer, and the reindeer seems to have decreased in numbers, at least on the west coast, where they are frequently shot by the Russian morse-hunters.
The hosts of sea-birds in some parts of the coast prove that the waters are far more prolific than the land. The foolish guillemots (Uria troile), closely congregated in rows, one above the other, on the narrow ledges of vertical rock-walls, make the black stone appear striped with white. Such a breeding-place is called by the Russians a bazar. On the summit of isolated cliffs, and suffering no other bird in his vicinity, nestles the large gray sea-mew (Larus glaucus), to whom the Dutch whale-catchers have given the name of “burghermaster.” While the ice-bear is monarch of the land animals, this gull appears as the sovereign lord of all the sea-birds around, and no guillemot would venture to dispute the possession of a dainty morsel claimed by the imperious burghermaster.
This abundance of the sea has also attracted man to the desert shores of Nova Zembla. Long before Barentz made Western Europe acquainted with the existence of Nova Zembla (1594–96), the land was known to the Russians as a valuable hunting or fishing ground; for the Dutch discoverer met with a large number of their vessels on its coast. Burrough, who visited the port of Kola in 1556, in search of the unfortunate Willoughby, and thence sailed as far as the mouth of the Petschora, likewise saw in the gulf of Kola no less than thirty lodjes, all destined for walrus-hunting in Nova Zembla.
Whether, before the Russians, the adventurous Norsemen ever visited these desolate islands, is unknown, but so much is certain, that ever since the times of Barentz the expeditions of the Muscovites to its western coast have been uninterruptedly continued. As is the case with all fishing speculations, their success very much depends upon chance. The year 1834 was very lucrative, so that in the following season about eighty ships, with at least 1000 men on board, sailed for Nova Zembla from the ports of the White Sea, but this time the results were so unsatisfactory that in 1836 scarce half the number were fitted out. In 1837 no more than twenty vessels were employed, and Von Baer relates that but one of them which penetrated into the sea of Kara made a considerable profit, while all the rest, with but few exceptions, did not pay one-half of their expenses.
The most valuable animals are the walrus and the white dolphin, or beluga. Among the seals, the Phoca albigena of Pallas distinguishes itself by its size, the thickness of its skin, and its quantity of fat; Phoca grœnlandica and Phoca hispida rank next in estimation. The Greenland whale never extends his excursions to the waters of Nova Zembla, but the fin-back and the grampus are frequently seen.
The Alpine salmon (Salmo alpinus), which towards autumn ascends into the mountain-lakes, is caught in incredible numbers; and, finally, the bean-goose (Anser segetum) breeds so frequently, at least upon the southern island, that the gathering of its quill-feathers is an object of some importance.