A River Path. 27 



yonder, bounded by a tongue of land, dense with 

 willows and birches, a dipper makes its nest every 

 year, under an overhanging root of mountain fern, 

 whose scented fronds are now just beginning to 

 uncurl. 



On the ground below plumed sedges cluster thick, 

 and tufts of cool green wood-sorrel nestle at the feet 

 of the willows. The creek is alive with darting trout. 

 A yellow wagtail is pacing daintily up and down the 

 shore. 



Hark ! the cry of a dipper. There he goes, right 

 up to the nest ; but he is off again without pausing a 

 moment, and settling on a stone in the swiftest part of 

 the river, he begins to sing a loud, clear, yet soft, 

 and altogether delightful piece of music, with tender 

 passages and half-whispered love-notes in it, meant for 

 her ear alone who listens unseen from her moss-built 

 sanctuary. Now he breaks off with the loud alarm 

 note that the angler knows so well, and on rapid wing 

 sweeps round the bend of the river. 



The merry and innocent bird is still in many places 

 ruthlessly shot, as a destroyer of fish-spawn ; but 

 repeated post-mortem examinations have proved be- 

 yond question that its food consists of small mollusca 

 and insects especially of the voracious larvae which 

 really are such deadly foes to the ova. 



It is a clever diver, using both feet and wings under 

 water, like a penguin. It has even been asserted that 

 the dipper could walk on the bottom of a stream, as 



