168 BIRDS OF THE ROCKIES 



hung the nest and formed its roof. A damp, uncanny 

 place for a bird's domicile, you would naturally suppose, 

 but the little lovers of cascades knew what they were 

 about. Only the exterior of the thick, moss-covered 

 walls were moist. Within, the nest was dry and cosey. 

 It was an oval structure, set in its rocky cleft like a small 

 oven, with an opening at the front. And there in the 

 doorway cuddled the two fledglings, looking out at the 

 dripping walls and the watery tumult, but kept warm 

 and comfortable. I could not resist touching them and 

 caressing their little heads, considering it quite an orni- 

 thological triumph for one day to find a pair of water- 

 ousels, discover a nest, and place my finger upon the 

 crowns of the nestlings. 



Scores of tourists visited the famous falls every day, 

 some of them lingering long in the beautiful place, and 

 yet the little ousels had gone on with their nest-building 

 and brood-rearing, undisturbed by human spectators. 

 I wondered whether many of the visitors noticed the 

 birds, and whether any one but myself had discovered 

 their nest. Indeed, their little ones were safe enough 

 from human meddling, for one could not see the nest 

 without wading up the stream into the sphere of the 

 flying mists. 



The natural home of Cinclus mexicanus is the Rocky 

 Mountains, to which he is restricted, not being known 

 anywhere else on this continent. He is the only mem- 



