THE KINGFISHER 71 



otter, stoat, or weasel can climb the sheer ascent 

 to the nest ; shoals of silvery minnows wander 

 in the summer sunshine over the shelf of rock, 

 and from the old oak-branch the bird can watch 

 each movement of the tiny fish. 



Once, when I had crept silently into my hiding- 

 place, I saw both parent kingfishers perched on 

 the oak-bough. The mother was calling eagerly, 

 yet persuasively ; and now and again, from the 

 dense shadows beneath the bushes, came a feeble, 

 piping cry. This calling and replying continued 

 at intervals for some time, till an odd-looking 

 fledgling fluttered out from the shadows, and 

 with a mighty effort succeeded in perching close 

 by its parents. Another youngster followed, 

 and still another, and then the family was com- 

 plete. 



The birds sat in a row with their heads turned 

 up-sfcream. But directly the little ones became 

 familiar with their surroundings, they — unusually 

 hungry, perhaps, because of a long absence from 

 their parents — sidled along the bough, opened 

 wide their beaks, and with trembhng wings 

 begged the old birds for food. One of the 

 parent birds, apparently the male, uttered a 

 low, harsh kr-rh, and edged away to the end 

 of the bough. The hen, however, seemed to 

 be questioning and reasoning with her impatient 

 offspring till, one by one, they moved to their 



