278 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



ments that never fail to fix the attention of the 

 observer. 



He is the mountain streams' own darling, the 

 humming-bird of blooming waters, loving rocky 

 ripple-slopes and sheets of foam as a bee loves 

 flowers, as a lark loves sunshine and meadows. 

 Among all the mountain birds, none has cheered 

 me so much in my lonely wanderings, none so 

 unfailingly. For both in winter and summer he 

 sings, sweetly, cheerily, independent alike of sun 

 shine and of love, requiring no other inspiration 

 than the stream on which he dwells. While water 

 sings, so must he, in heat or cold, calm or storm, 

 ever attuning his voice in sure accord ; low in the 

 drought of summer and the drought of winter, but 

 never silent. 



During the golden days of Indian summer, after 

 most of the snow has been melted, and the mountain 

 streams have become feeble, a succession of silent 

 pools, linked together by shallow, transparent cur 

 rents and strips of silvery lacework, then the song 

 of the Ouzel is at its lowest ebb. But as soon as the 

 winter clouds have bloomed, and the mountain 

 treasuries are once more replenished with snow, 

 the voices of the streams and ouzels increase in 

 strength and richness until the flood season of 

 early summer. Then the torrents chant their no 

 blest anthems, and then is the flood-time of our 

 songster's melody. As for weather, dark days and 

 sun days are the same to him. The voices of most 

 song-birds, however joyous, suffer a long winter 

 eclipse; but the Ouzel sings on through all the 

 seasons and every kind of storm. Indeed no storm 



