MY FIRST WATER-OUZELS 



THERE is no California bird, not even the 

 big vulture, that I have been more insistent 

 upon seeing than the water-ouzel. There is none 

 to which so romantic an interest attaches. And 

 it may be added that there is none which has 

 cost me so many steps. 



It is a bird of mountain canons ; not of their 

 precipitous rocky sides, like the canon wren, but 

 of their hurrying brooks, and especially of their 

 waterfalls. Technically, as men take account of 

 such things, it is a land-bird, as under the same 

 ruling the snipe and the woodcock are water- 

 birds. But the bird does not know it. Where 

 there is no water, look for no ouzel. As well 

 seek the kingfisher, another "land-bird," on the 

 desert, or the hummingbird where there are no 

 blossoms. 



There were canons at San Diego, but no moun- 

 tain canons ; and there were mountains at Witch 

 Creek, but no wild mountain brooks ; so it was 

 not until I reached Pasadena that I began to cast 

 about in earnest for the home of the ouzel. 



Three canons were named to me ; all rather 

 far removed, but, the inducement being weighed, 



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