1 84 STRA Y FEA THERS FROM MANY BIRDS. 



different species haunt the stream, and are met with in 

 places where the water is suited to their requirements. 

 Where the stream flows sluggishly and slow over a level 

 bit of ground, as likely as not a Heron will start on 

 broad flapping wings, disturbed from his moody contem- 

 plation of things piscatorial ; or the Kingfisher, like an 

 indistinct streak of emerald light, darts quickly by, soon 

 to be lost to view round a distant bend of the stream. 

 Higher up the hillsides, where the water is ever rough 

 and troubled, another little bird is sure to be met with. 

 This is the Dipper, a bird that loves the stream in its 

 wildest moods, where the water dances and leaps from 

 rock to rock flecked with foam. By no means a shy bird, 

 he gambols in the water, and flits from stone to stone 

 before the observer, often diving to the bottom of the 

 stream in quest of his food. When the Dipper is met with 

 the scenery insensibly becomes wilder ; the trees become 

 smaller and scarcer ; the rocks become larger, and farm- 

 land almost entirely ceases. The pastures are rough and 

 broken, sprinkled with thick clusters of rushes and dense 

 gorse bushes, amongst which the rabbits sport and play, 

 whilst here and there the ground is thickly studded with 

 molehills. Higher up still the border of the moorland is 

 reached, and our mountain stream gradually gets narrower 

 and more impetuous. Its bed is more rugged, its banks 

 more rocky, amongst which the heather and bilberry 

 grow in uncurbed luxuriance ; whilst in the crevices 



