Cassell's book of birds; vol. 2

by Alfred Edmund Brehm

"About four years ago, when on a shooting excursion, I embraced the opportunity—as everybody else who has it ought to do—of visiting the deservedly celebrated Falls of the Clyde, and here it was, while viewing the Fall of Bonnington, that, happening to cast my eye down below, a little beyond the foot of the cascade, where the river is broken with stones and fragments of rock, I espied, standing near each other on a large stone, no less than five Water Ouzels. Thus favourably stationed as I was for a view—myself unseen—I had a fair opportunity for overlooking their manœuvres. I observed accordingly that they flirted up their tails and flew from one stone to another, till at length they mustered again upon the identical one on which I had first espied them. They next entered into the water and disappeared, but they did not all do this at the same time, neither did they do it in the same manner. Three of them plunged over head instantaneously, but the remaining two walked gradually into the stream, and having displayed their wings, spread them on the surface, and by this means appeared entirely to support themselves. In this position they continued for some time—at one moment quickly spinning themselves, as it were, two or three times round, at another remaining perfectly motionless on the surface; at length they almost insensibly sank. What became of them it is not in my power to state, the water not being sufficiently transparent for me to discover the bottom of the river, particularly as I was elevated so much above it. Neither can I say that I perceived any one of them emerge again, although I kept glancing my eye in every direction, in order, if possible, to catch them in the act of re-appearing. The plumage of the bird, indeed, being so much in harmony with the surrounding masses of stone, rendered it not very easily distinguishable. I did, however, afterwards observe two of these birds on the opposite side of the stream, and possibly the three others might also have emerged and escaped my notice."

Mr. Mudie, in his "Feathered Tribes," observes—"A question has been raised how the Dipper can contrive to keep beneath a fluid so much more dense than itself. An Owl to an Owl's bulk of air is as a stone to a pound, as compared with the Dipper's bulk of water to the Dipper; but if birds rise and ascend in the air at pleasure by the motions of their wings, it is only reversing those motions to enable them to descend or keep themselves down in water. The difference of specific gravity between the bird and the water is indeed so trifling that very little effort suffices to move it in any direction, upwards, downwards, or laterally. Birds do not fly upon the principle of specific gravity, as, with equal wings, the heavy birds fly best; they fly because they strike the air more forcibly in the opposite direction to that in which they wish to go, and, under water, the Dipper just does the same. If it wishes to go down, it strikes upwards with the wings and tail; if to come up, it does just the reverse. The only difference is that the wings are held 'recovered,' as running birds use them, and that gravitation has even less to do in the matter than in flying. Any one who has ever seen a Dipper under water, or has the slightest knowledge of the mere elements of mechanics, can understand the whole matter in an instant. The Dipper is indeed often adduced as an instance of the beautiful simplicity of animal mechanics."

The flight of the Water Ouzel is effected by a series of rapidly repeated strokes, yet, even when winging its way through the air, the bird skims along near the surface of the stream, darting down from time to time to seize a passing insect. Only when hotly pursued does it quit the vicinity of its favourite lake or river, and seek safety by flying to any considerable distance, and it always returns to its usual haunts as soon as the cause of its alarm has disappeared. While perched upon an elevated point on the bank, engaged in watching for prey, it is not uncommon to see it dart suddenly down and seize its victim with an action more resembling the leap of a frog than the movement of a member of the feathered creation. As regards intelligence and the perfection of its senses, this remarkable bird is decidedly highly endowed; its sight and hearing, in particular, are extremely acute. In disposition it is cunning, cautious, and so observant that it at once perceives any unusual object or detects approaching danger.

To the presence of man the Dipper usually exhibits the utmost repugnance, whether he come in the guise of a friend or foe, nor is it less fearful of the attacks of the numerous birds of prey that dwell around and within its rocky haunts. We learn from Homeyer, who has observed these Ouzels very extensively, that their dislike to man, above alluded to, is sometimes laid aside, and that they have not only been known to allow the approach of a stranger, but have even ventured to approach mill-streams, and, in some instances, cultivated quite a close acquaintance with the miller and his family. The same writer also mentions that a pair of these birds made their appearance in Baden-Baden, and much astonished the visitors at one of the largest hotels, by commencing their diving and bathing operations immediately in front of the house. Even towards birds of its own kind, the Water Ouzel is extremely unsocial; only during the period of incubation does it tolerate the society of its mates; at other times it lives alone, driving off any of its neighbours that unwarily intrude within the precincts of its little domain with a violence well calculated to prevent a renewal of the offence, as the following extract will show:—

"A gentleman," says a correspondent of the Field newspaper, "was walking along the bank of a little stream in Pembrokeshire, when he saw a Dipper, shooting along with its usual arrowy flight, divert itself from its course, and, dashing against a Redbreast that was sitting quietly on a twig overhanging the stream, knock it fairly into the water. The savage little bird was not content with this assault, but continued to attack the poor Redbreast as it lay fluttering on the waves, endeavouring to force it below the surface. It twice drove its victim under water, and would have killed it, had it not been scared away by the shouts and gestures of the witness. The Robin at length succeeded in scrambling to the bank, and got away in safety." So strong is this dislike to companionship, that even the young are sent forth to provide for themselves at such a tender age as would appear to render it impossible for them to obtain their own livelihood.

The song of the male Dipper may be best described as a lively chatter, consisting of a variety of light tones uttered with different degrees of sound and expression, and is to be heard not only in the spring, but during the utmost severity of the winter. "Those," says Schinz, "who have listened to their cheerful voices on a bleak January morning, when every object in the landscape seemed frozen or dead, or watched the gay little singers as, in the very joyousness of their heart, they sprung through a hole into the ice-bound stream, to take their usual copious bath, would be inclined to believe that they are actually insensible to the chilling breath of the frost and the icy nature of the scene around them." Insects of all kinds constitute their principal means of existence. Gloger tells us that during the winter they also frequently eat mussels and small fish, and that this diet imparts a fishy flavour to their flesh. Should the season be unusually severe, they are sometimes compelled to venture forth and snatch a meal from the most unlikely places; thus we were informed by a miller in our neighbourhood that his mill was repeatedly visited during a heavy frost by a pair of these birds, they being attracted by the hope of obtaining a portion of the oil with which the mill-wheels were greased, and so overcome with hunger were the poor creatures that they swallowed the grease boldly, even when one of the men stood close to the spot.

The period of incubation commences in April, one brood and occasionally two being produced within the year. The nest is constructed close to the surface of the water, and, if possible, in such a situation as to permit the stream to flow past it, and thus afford protection against the attacks of martens, weasels, cats, and such-like enemies; it is usually placed upon projecting stones or rocks, or in holes in bridges or mill-dams, and similar situations. In an instance that came under our own notice, it was built in the wheel of a mill that had for a time stopped work. All our endeavours to obtain a sight of the nest last mentioned would have been useless, had not the friendly miller drawn off the water, and thus permitted us to satisfy our curiosity. The cavity, or nook selected for the reception of the brood is lined with a thick bed of twigs, grass, straw, and moss, these materials being overspread with a layer of leaves. If the mouth of the hole be large it is covered with a kind of mossy lid, resembling that made by the Wren for her little abode, leaving only an entrance passage of very moderate dimensions. When placed among the machinery of a mill, the nest has sometimes required to be two feet long, in order to keep it firmly fixed on its precarious foundation. The eggs, from four to six in number, are of a glossy white, variously shaped, but generally from eight to ten lines long, and eight to eight and a half lines broad. Though the female broods with such diligence and care that she will not even make her escape at the approach of danger, she rarely succeeds in hatching more than two of her brood, the rest of the eggs being no doubt addled by the damp situation of the nest. Whilst engaged in tending their young family, the parents often appear to lay aside their usual timidity, and will permit a stranger to investigate their proceedings without exhibiting any sign of fear.

THE AMERICAN WATER OUZEL.

The AMERICAN WATER OUZEL (Cinclus Americanus) differs from the European species above described by the absence of white on the brownish chin and throat. Nuttall tells us, in his interesting work on American ornithology, that "this bird was first noticed by Pallas in the Crimea, and afterwards by Mr. Bullock in Mexico, from whence it appears, by an exclusively interior route, to penetrate into the wild and remote interior of Canada, as far as the shores of the Athabasca Lake."

Mr. Townsend says, in speaking of this bird—whose habits are but little known—"The American Dipper inhabits the clear mountain streams in the vicinity of the Columbia. When observed it was swimming along the rapids, occasionally flying for short distances over the surface of the water, and then diving into it, re-appearing after a short interval. Sometimes it alights on the banks of the stream, and jerks its tail upwards like a Wren. I did not hear it utter any note. The stomach was found to contain fragments of fresh-water snail-shells. I observed that this bird did not alight on the surface of the water, but dived immediately while on the wing."