Som THE AMERICAN WATER OUZEL. _ 
health. But you would far rather know of his, for he has just come out of the 
icy bath, and as he sidles down the rock, tittering expectantly, you judge he is 
contemplating another one. Yes; without more ado the bird wades into the 
stream where the current is so swift you are sure it would sweep a man off 
his feet. He disappears beneath its surface and you shudder at the possibilt- 
ties, but after a half minute of suspense he bursts out of the seething waters a 
dozen feet below and flits back to his rock chuckling cheerily. This time, it may 
be, he will rest, and you have opportunity to note the slightly retroussé aspect 
of the beak in its attachment to the head. The bird has stopped springing now 
and stands as stolid as an Indian, save as ever and again he delivers a slow 
wink, upside down, with the white nictitating membrane. 
It has been asserted that the Ouzel flies under water, but I think that 
this is a mistake, except as it may use its wings to reach the surface of the 
water after it has released its hold upon the bottom. The bird creeps and 
clings, rather, and is thus able to withstand a strong current as well as to attain 
a depth of several feet in quieter waters. 
The Water Ouzel feeds largely upon the larvee of the caddice fly, known 
locally as periwinkles. These are found clinging to the under surface of stones 
lining the stream, and their discovery requires quite a little prying and poking 
on the bird’s part. ‘The Ouzels are also said to be destructive to fish fry, inso- 
much that the director of a hatchery in British Columbia felt impelled to order 
the destruction of all the Ouzels, to the number of several hundred, which 
wintered along a certain protected stream. This was a very regrettable neces- 
sity, if necessity it was, and one which might easily lead to misunderstanding 
between bird-men and fish-men. We are fond of trout ourselves, but we con- 
fess to being a great deal fonder of this adventuresome water-sprite. 
The Ouzel is non-migratory, but the summer haunts of the birds in the 
mountains are largely closed to them in winter, so that they find it necessary at 
that season to retreat to the lower levels. ‘This is done, as it were, reluctantly, 
and nothing short of the actual blanketing of snow or ice will drive them to 
forsake the higher waters. The bird is essentially solitary at this season, as 
in summer, and when it repairs to a lower station, along late in November, 
there is no little strife engendered by the discussion of metes and bounds. In 
the winter of 1895-6, being stationed at Chelan, I had occasion to note that the 
same Ouzels appeared daily along the upper reaches of the Chelan River. Think- 
ing that such a local attachment might be due to similar occupation down stream, 
I set out one afternoon to follow the river down for a mile or so, and to ascer- 
tain, if possible, how many bird-squatters had laid out claims along its tur- 
bulent course. In places where there was an unusually long succession of 
rapids, it was not always possible to decide between the conflicting interests 
of rival claimants, for they flitted up and down overlapping by short flights 
each other’s domains; but the very fact that these overlappings often occa- 
