134 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS. 



succession of hills and vales all purple with the bloom of the 

 heather, and varied with the many bright tints which beautify 

 the wild moorlands, now nothing is visible but a vast 

 expanse of glistening snow, unbroken save where crag or 

 scaur stands out bare and black, casting a deep blue shadow 

 across the slopes, or where dark patches of a pine wood struggle 

 through their frozen burden. These conditions rather suit 

 the idiosyncrasies of the writer, who has, under them, 

 enjoyed many a hard and pleasant day's tramp among the 

 hills. Starting away just as the tardy daylight begins to 

 break, the low pleasing carol of the Dipper strikes cheerily 

 on the ear from the burn where he sits on a stone in mid- 

 stream, piping merrily away. Following the course of the 

 burn, we presently come on another pair of these hardy little 

 fellows, busily diving under the fringe of fast ice which lines 

 either bank ; then popping up quite unconcernedly in the 

 narrow centre channel of open water, to land on the ice-edge. 

 Far differently do their neighbours the Water-hens regard the 

 new conditions of life. They seem utterly dismayed at the 

 loss of their accustomed hiding-places among the rushes and 

 sedge, and splash about in a constant state of fright. Even 

 that most skulking of all birds, the Water Bail, is now at 

 fault in his consummate mastery of the art of hiding, and 

 runs disconsolately about the frozen reed-beds, seeking in 

 vain to conceal his dark form when everything is white. 

 Except at such times as this, so retiring are the Kails, that 

 one is hardly even aware of their existence on the burns. 

 Now they seem stupefied by the changed conditions, and so 

 loth to take wing, that in the heavy snow-storms of 

 December, 1869, we ran one down and captured him alive. 

 The Spotted Crake is a scarcer bird, and does not remain 

 with us in winter. The only one I have seen killed in the 

 northern counties was shot October 26, 1883. 



The hill burns are a favourite resort of mine during deep 

 snow, for the chances they offer of Snipe and Duck (Mallard 

 and Golden-eye) driven in from the frozen loughs above. 

 But in long-protracted snow-storms the Mallards, after a 

 time, forsake the inland streams altogether, and betake them- 

 selves to the open coast, where at such times I have found 



