18 Rhee Vol. XXIV — 
NOTES ON THE DIPPER IN YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK 
By M. P. SKINNER, Park Naturalist 
HE little, dark, almost black Dipper (Cinclus mexicanus unicolor) is resi- 
al dent along almost every stream in the Park from the lowest elevation (5300 
feet) well up above the 8000 foot level. I doubt not but that Dippers 
would be found much higher if there was any place for their beloved streams 
to descend from. Seen to some extent about ponds and lakes, they much pre- 
fer rapids, although not the most tumultuous ones, and waterfalls; and they 
are common enough along the mineralized waters. Only once have I seen one 
away from water and then he was flying over the quarter mile stretch between 
two streams. I have seen them on streams not more than two feet wide in the 
fir forests; along ditches, if the water be but clear and running; and occasion- 
ally, in November, along a ditch watering a barn yard. They live about beaver 
ponds, and at least one pair has a scenic retreat in the depths of the Yellow- 
stone Canyon at the foot of the Lower Falls. 
Usually alighting on a stone along shore or in mid-stream, they are not 
averse to resting on a stump, on drift caught in the current, or on a snag or 
root extending out over the water; but the farthest from the water I have 
ever seen one perched, was on the edge of a concrete retaining wall six feet 
above the water. In winter they are given to perching on the edge of the ice 
along shore, or about an opening, where they never seem to slip even when the 
ice is fresh and ‘‘as slippery as glass.’’ Sometimes they fly up along the power 
pipe line to the reservoir and rest on the edge of the ice by the open water 
that never quite closes even in the coldest, below-zero weather. In winter, 
Dippers are on the formation below Jupiter Terrace, and they live all winter 
long as high as 8000 feet above sea level wherever the hot springs keep the 
streams open, such as the Gardiner, Gibbon, and Firehole rivers, Alum Creek, 
and in the Geyser Basins. 
The Dipper is given to ‘‘dipping’’, quite like a sandpiper, while standing 
on any convenient stone, or ridge on the ice. Often running nimbly along the 
level shore ice, he is very active and always busy except when he stops a few 
minutes to sing, or to take a sun-bath. On early winter mornings, sun-baths 
are the regular thing. One cloudy morning I noted a Dipper do the next best 
thing—warm himself and bask luxuriously in the steam from some cooled gey- 
ser water that was still much warmer than the keen, wintry air. While swim- 
ming on the water, a Dipper goes along nodding his head quite like a minia- 
ture rail, or a coot. In many ways Dippers suggest wrens. They are small and 
quick ; they often perk up their short tails at a steep angle; and they are for- 
ever exploring every nook and cranny of their domain. 
More or less solitary, never more than a pair together, except for a family 
party just from the nest, they do not associate with other species. Each bird, 
or pair of birds, claims a portion of their stream as their own, and promptly 
drive off intruding Dippers and then as quickly return to their own home sec- 
tion. Once I saw the intruder halt in mid-air and dive like a flash into the 
rapids two feet below him to escape. True, winter necessities make it rather 
crowded along the few open streams; but even if sections are smaller then, 
they are still preserved inviolate. 
The flight is direct and the wing beats are very rapid for a hundred feet, 
