266 LAND BIRDS 



of a Water Ouzel. But to find one in the middle of a 

 pine-fringed mountain stream, where it seemed to be- 

 long just to the bird and me, — ah, that was a different 

 matter. 



It was located on a smooth granite boulder that rose 

 from the white foam of the American River in the Sierra 

 Nevada. Resting half on the rock and half in the 

 stream was a fallen tree trunk, and under the shelter 

 of this on the slippery rock the Ouzel had woven his 

 little moss nest, kept fresh and green by the spray that 

 dashed over it. As the mother approached the nest, 

 she paused just a breath on a projecting point of the 

 old trunk, and I distinctly saw that she carried the 

 larva of some water insect in her beak. The babies in 

 the nest knew it also, and the small doorway, where a 

 dainty fern nodded its green plumes, instantly blossomed 

 with four little heads. Four hungry mouths opened 

 wide to receive the morsel. How would she apportion 

 it among so many ? After a moment of indecision, she 

 tucked it deftly into one of the four gaping yellow bills ; 

 then, as if afraid of a wail of protest from those still 

 unfilled, she darted hastily into the water and was lost 

 to view. In exactly three minutes she appeared on the 

 tree trunk again with another of the queer-looking larvae, 

 and again the four nestlings stretched hungry little beaks 

 to be filled. This time she was joined by the male, who, 

 though he came last, managed to deliver his load first, 

 and perching on a smaller stone near by, where the spray 

 dashed over him as he sang, he poured out his joy in 

 sweetest music. How I longed to have the river keep 



