EASTERN BELTED KINGFISHER 123 



On such occasions one bird is often angrily pursued by another. These 

 pursuits are most reckless and enduring in character. One sees the two 

 birds swirl by like two blue flashes of light, to disappear in an instant of 

 time on perfectly controlled wings perhaps far away in the pine woods, 

 almost grazing the tough trunk of some mighty tree, or heading straight for a 

 sheer cliff and rising fifteen feet or more to clear it when it seems that they 

 must be dashed to pieces on the rock. I once saw a Kingfisher, hard-pressed in 

 such a pursuit, adopt a clever means of escape. His pursuer was close upon 

 him — about five feet behind. On they came down the creek, neither bird 

 seeming to gain upon the other. Both were flying lat top speed low over the 

 water. Suddenly there was a splash, and the foremost Kingfisher disap- 

 peared under the water. The bird behind swept on and lit ou a nearby stub, not 

 attempting to renew the chase when his enemy reappeared. 



The above was probably a case of one bird defending its territory 

 against the invasion of it by another kingfisher. Frederick C. 

 Lincoln (1924) saw a striking example of this during his field work 

 in the marshes of the Illinois River ; he says : "During the period of 

 greatest abundance, practically every channel had its quota of birds, 

 each of which appeared to patrol or to hold dominion over a certain 

 well-defined section." As many as 8 or 10 birds were encountered, 

 each always confined to its own limited section. One of the boatmen 

 told him that "he took much pleasure in informing club members and 

 others who might be with him in the club launch, just how far the 

 kingfisher then in sight would go and where the next one would be 

 met." 



William Brewster (1937a) watched a kingfisher at Lake Umbagog 

 that "plunged into the water, striking a fish so large, that he had 

 to let it go after a brief struggle, during which he failed to bring 

 it to the surface, although evidently trying his best to do so." 



Voice. — There is not much beauty in the voice of the kingfisher, but 

 the loud rattling call always produces a thrill in the listener; it is 

 a wild, weird, wilderness call that enlivens the solitudes and punc- 

 tuates the stillness of lonely shores or forest streams; it seems to fit 

 in well with the active vigor of this aggressive guardian of his 

 domain, as a warning to his rivals. It consists of a series of harsh, 

 wooden, rattling notes of great carrying power. It has been likened 

 to the sound made by an old-fashioned policeman's or watchman's 

 rattle, a very good description for those of us who are old enough 

 to remember such out-of-date sounds ; but it may remind the younger 

 generation of the sound made by certain noise-making instruments 

 used at get-together dinners, political rallies, or other joyous gath- 

 erings. 



It is not easily expressed in syllables, but Mr. Bralliar (1922) has 

 written it fairly well as rickety, crick, crick, crick. The call varies 

 some under different circumstances, sometimes being quite soft and 

 low, as if in a conversational tone with its mate. The courtship 



