2 
Birds of River, Forest and Sky 
After waiting a long time for their appearance, my friend suddenly 
pointed to the water on the edge of the bar, where a charming little 
creature, looking very bluish gray in the strong sunlight, with motion¬ 
less wings was daintily paddling about in the shallow water as much 
at ease as if it had been a web-footed duck. Memories of ouzels that 
hunted and swam among the cascades of Squaw creek on Mt. Shasta 
returned to me at the sight. In the strong sunlight, gradations of color 
unseen in dark woods were observable, the head of the bird looking 
almost purplish, the tips of its wings and the short tail dark slate, while 
the lighter under parts were faintly scored. 
When the ouzel started to swim, it would put its head under the 
water as if locating something, and then, quivering its wings, disap¬ 
pear altogether, coming up soon after with a long, black-shelled cad- 
dice fly larva, the shell of which, as we proved later, is a remarkable 
mosaic of minute stones. Known locally as grampus, the larva serves 
as bait for many of the visiting fishermen along this far-famed trout 
stream. When the bird brought up a grampus, it would shake the 
long shell till it finally broke open, and, pulling out the yellowish brown 
larva, quickly swallow it. 
After bringing up and eating several of the larvae, the ouzel picked 
about in the submerged green mats that suggested sea-weed. Once it 
stood on a stone green with moss long enough to bring out the strong 
color contrast of the green and the gray. When walking about over the 
rocks it would make its droll little courtesies—dip, dip, dip—till you 
were constrained to speak its name—dipper. 
When it had had a satisfying meal it flew across the river to a 
stone on the shaded bank, where, in terms of protective coloration, 
it perfectly pictured its background, for its gray upper parts disap¬ 
peared in the dark shadow, the lighter shade of its breast toned in with 
the sun on the rock, and only its light-colored legs were left as slender 
sticks quite foreign to any bird-like suggestion. But when its profiled 
bill and head projected into the sun, the bird form was restored. When 
it moved to a branch hanging over the water and the sun touched 
up the branch, the plump gray form became a mere knob on the limb, 
so perfectly did it again picture its background. But when it dipped 
with the sun on it, on the instant the illusion was lost, the knob be¬ 
came a bird again—which, to my reading, explains the dipping, for 
how else could shadowy intangible family forms keep together? 
After the ouzel’s meal out on the bar it sat quietly for some time 
on the shaded bank, doubtless enjoying the spray that occasionally 
dashed over it from the small rapids. While it was resting, I had time 
to look about and observe its setting — over its head a band of low green 
