294 



SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



THE DIPPER. 



By Robert Godfrey. 



AS we trip gaily along over the heather and 

 through the brackens that adorn the sides 

 of our Pentland hill streams, following their zigzag 

 course, we have a more or less constant companion- 

 ship with the characteristic bird of our burns, 

 the dipper (Cinchis aquaticus). He usually awaits 

 the traveller's approach before darting from his 

 retreat beneath the bank, or his perch on a rock, 

 and, with a merry " ching-ching," he flies close to 

 the surface, and, plunging into the water just short 

 of a stone, swims towards it. There he bobs up 

 and down and looks in turn to all the points of the 

 compass, displaying at one time his dark back, at 

 another his white breast. He advances before us 

 by short flights from stone to stone, sometimes 

 entering the water and disappearing beneath the 

 surface for a moment, then rising and swimming 

 to the next stone, and eventually, taking a long 

 flight to be rid of our disturbing presence, 

 disappears behind a bend in the stream. We 

 follow on cautiously and carefully, and find him 

 perched on a stone up stream, far enough off to 

 consider himself safe. He is preening himself after 

 his morning's operations, and, having finished this 

 duty, he rests in peace by the bank. We watch 

 him through our glass, and see his white eyelid 

 appearing regularly as a glittering mark on his ash- 

 coloured head. But our patience is tried sorely as 

 we continue to wait his pleasure. 



After a long idle halt he resumes his hunt for 

 food, and, crouching amongst the pebbles by the 

 side of the stream, he picks slowly, with many 

 inquisitive glances before him. Leisurely he walks 

 on the bottom, and keeps bobbing gently, though 

 restlessly. His head is lowered, and now he stands 

 up to the body in the water. At each thrust 

 of his beak amongst the pebbles or sand he sends 

 a few drops of water into the air, and, when he 

 passes beyond his depth, he swims across the little 

 pool to the shallows on its opposite edge and picks 

 around the bases of the larger stones, or mounts 

 them, to secure food from their exposed surfaces. 

 He knows well where the animal life is concealed, 

 and, moving along through the water, inserts 

 his beak beneath the smaller stones and by a 

 sudden jerk turns them over, quickly seizing the 

 tiny creatures so exposed. Considering his size 

 he turns over large stones, but has of course an 

 advantage in the water by means of which the 

 weight of the stone is decreased, and when he 

 finds one that resists his efforts he does not delay 

 beside it but passes on. He feeds chiefly in the 

 shallower parts of the stream, but is an adept 

 at securing food in deeper water also, and he often 



proceeds along the burn by a series of dives and 

 short flights. From a stone he plunges into the 

 water, wriggling greatly as he enters, as if flying 

 under though also struggling against the current ; 

 shortly afterwards he reappears, and after a short 

 swim wriggles under again. Whilst feeding he 

 keeps silence ; but when approached too closely he 

 ceases to feed, and, after bobbing repeatedly to us, 

 flies off with a cheery call. 



The dipper sings throughout the year, but his 

 song always seems more beautiful in the winter 

 months, as then it has few rival productions to 

 cope with. The dipper is no high-class musician, 

 but dearly he loves to sing his rough clinking 

 notes, with their occasional thrill, to himself; he 

 cares not though no listener be at hand to hear, 

 and when his mate is brooding over her eggs he 

 sits beneath the bank of the stream and delivers his 

 strain to the moorland waste. Often when winging 

 his way along the stream he will alight on the 

 grassy bank or on a stone and raise his head to 

 sing. The beauty of the song is greatly enhanced 

 by the solitude where it is delivered ; it is one of 

 the characteristic moorland sounds. Splendid, 

 however, as his song is in his loneliness, when he 

 sings to himself and unknowingly cheers the 

 wanderer, it lacks the power and the tenderness 

 imparted to it when the bird sings in the presence 

 of his mate. Then he becomes entirely oblivious 

 of everything and falls into an ecstasy. No other 

 British songster known to me is so overpowered by 

 his song, none so loses possession of himself as he 

 does. I have watched him on a tree-stump become 

 suddenly enraptured on the approach of his mate ; 

 he stretches his neck and opens his wings in the 

 attitude of a young bird about to be fed, and 

 now he stands erect and flutters his wings 

 continually, yea, he shivers all over as he sings 

 boldly and cheerily in the frosty air. How simple, 

 how happy their joy ! She listens attentively to 

 the happy strain, and bobs up and down in glee, 

 actually seeming to dance to the music ; but she 

 likes not our presence and fears for her companion's 

 safety. She approaches nearer till she actually 

 seems to dislodge him from his perch, and the two 

 fond lovers fly together down the swollen stream, 

 " ching-ing " continuously as they fly. How the 

 mountaineer's heart thrills with joy when he hears 

 the ringing sound break the silence of the snow- 

 clad hills, and when he thinks of one little songster 

 at least rejoicing in the cold. 



During the nesting-season each pair of dippers 

 seems to have their own territory, to which they 

 restrict themselves. When a stream flows through 



