Ring Ouzels ^ Water Ouzels 115 



'Arry and 'Arriet, what ''ave yer done ? 



You've cut yer " noimes " in the turf : 



YouVe flung yer bottles of ginger-beer, 



To float in the river's surf ; 



Why scatter your paper bags about, 



Because you've finished yer 'am ? 



Is iAaf all you come to Dovedale for. 



To devour yer tarts and jam ? 



You've shocked the ouzels amongst the rocks, 



You've made the wild rose blush, 



You've frightened the birds in the midst of their songs, 



And stilled the sweet notes of the thrush. 



The hills resound with hysterical yells. 



Your screams have carried a mile ; 



It makes one think of the poet's words 



That, " only man is vile." 



■vp 7^ tJ? v|r T?P 



In the wild hills of Sutherlandshire the ring ouzel 

 can be seen. 



Perched on the summit of a boulder, round which 

 stretches down the mountain side a tangled growth of 

 heather, bog myrtle, and ling, his showy cravatte of 

 white shines conspicuously against his black coat. 



You may be lying hid from the deer, waiting as a 

 herd comes browsing, until a royal is within shot, or 

 hungrily devouring your frugal lunch at the edge of 

 a trickling stream, and the ouzel cock flits uneasily 

 about, warning the members of his family of the 

 intruder's presence. A mountain bird, giving a touch 

 of life where at times all is so solitary. 



There is nothing finer in its own particular way 

 than this deer forest, barren of trees and severe in beauty, 

 the home of the ptarmigan amongst the rocky mist- 

 veiled summits, and of the merganser, which dives in 

 the mountain tarn to feed upon the trout that have 



