AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 285 



the bird. Now can you fully appreciate the beauty of the erst 

 -commonplace birdie. 



It is now that the dull slate becomes transformed by the alchemy of 

 the light into opal tints richer than ever taken from Hungarian mines. 

 The erratic little twist that he gives to his head makes a play of 

 thousands of colors. He turns upon you a laughing black eye and 

 bows gravely. Now something attracts his attention in the water. 

 Some dainty bird-land morsel, perhaps and with the abandon of a 

 schoolboy he plunges into the brawling current. The rushing water 

 seizes him and rolls him over and over, whip him against a boulder 

 but from it all he emerges mot a whit disconcerted. Bursting into 

 song like the ripple of laughing waters he flits away home. Now, 

 follow, as I have followed, searching every bushy tree, peering under 

 every overhanging bank, for the cunning concealed nest that you know 

 is somewhere about. At last, tired with the unsuccessful search I sat 

 upon a rock beside a waterfall, where the water plunging over the 

 -cliff, broke into spray, forming myriad rainbows against the dark 

 background of basalt towering on the further side of the stream a 

 thousand feet and more. Where the spray dashed against the face of 

 the cliff there were hanging festoons of dark green moss that hung 

 and swayed in the air current made by the rushing waters. As I sat, 

 painting fancy pictures in the rushing waters, I became aware of a 

 pair of brilliant eyes watching me curiously and apprehensively from 

 out the mossy canopy covering a crevice in the rock. With a sharp 

 chirp the mate lit woodpecker-wise upon the swaying moss and began, 

 in the sweetest Dipper language to hold converse with his sitting 

 mate. Then I knew that my quest was at an end and that I was about 

 to be introduced to the home life of Mr. and Mrs. Dipper' 



Yet thirty feet of white water flowed between me and a more 

 intimate knowledge of my friends, and to come at the nest without 

 going over the fall was a problem. How I reached the nest is a story 

 in itself; suffice it to say that it was not that day, nor even the next, 

 but reach it I did. I found Mrs. Ousel at home, and what is more, 

 very much loth to vacate. She defended her treasures valiantly, 

 using a sharp little beak to the most provoking advantage. At last I 

 induced her to retire for a little time and allow me to take notes. The 

 nest was composed of moss. In fact it was merely dug out of the 

 heavy festoons of moss that filled the crevice of the rock. The spray 

 dashed over the nest, all the time wetting the incubating bird and in 

 her absence drenching the five white eggs that the nest contained so 

 that it is a wonder that they were ever hatched. They were though, 

 for I returned some weeks later to find the parents busy carrying food 



