221



on Birds by an Irish Stream in Winter.



between us and them. Shortly after we come upon a pair of

Blue Tits feeding in a Larch ; I am certain they are a pair for, no

matter where one flies the other follows at once. I wonder if

these little birds pair for life ? It certainly looks like it in this

case. Not far off a Wren is feeding up and down the branches

and round the roots of an old tree. This time last year out in

Algiers I heard the Wrens singing most beautifully just as they

do with us in late spring. It is wonderful how tame these little

birds are. I remember once when trying the pattern of a new

12-bore gun. noticing how tame Blue and Coal Tits were, for in

a hedge within two yards of me they fed while I fired off cartridge

after cartridge; it did not seem to disturb them in the least.


Now' we are at a bend of the stream and have to get over

a high fence before we again reach the river’s edge. I stop

suddenly and signal to my friend not to move for there, perched

on a stone at the other side of the river, is what I take to be a

Dipper. Up go our glasses and we carefully examine this little

bird which is new to me except in pictures and mounted speci¬

mens, and nothing that I know of gives more pleasure than

seeing a species new to one, except perhaps the finding of a new

one, but that is a state of bliss awarded to very few ornithologists ;

and these occasions will be fewer and fewer as the darker parts

of our globe become more civilised, and I am afraid in many

cases spoilt from a Naturalist’s point of view. For myself I

always look back with pleasure on those red-letter days when I

have seen something new to me. Well do I remember my first

view of Golden Plover in breeding plumage on the Island of

Canna, and Buzzards at another place on the West Coast of

Scotland. But to return to our Dippers or Water Ouzels ; we

follow them down the river until they turn and fly back—we

have heard that the different pairs of this species have their

regular beats on the river, and shortly after we come on

another pair. One can only make out the white throat-patch

poised above a stone, as the brown water blends so well with the

colouring of the bird, making it quite impossible to see the out¬

line. We have now reached the bridge, and the Dippers coming

here to the end of their beat turn and fly up stream.


Crossing the road we get on to the river again, passing on



