680 ALCEDO ISPIDA. 



sometimes remaining motionless for more than half an hour, 

 anxiously watching his prey. He must have been uncom- 

 monly quick-sighted, for when he darted into the water, he 

 always came up with a minnow in his bill, with which he in- 

 stantly alighted on a stone or paling, and after killing it he 

 swallowed it whole. He continued his fishing until it was 

 almost dark, and before he went to roost he plunged into the 

 stream several times, and in rapid succession." 



The following account of its habits, as observed in the county 

 of Leicester by Mr Harley, will, I think, render its history 

 pretty complete. " The Kingfisher, which is a permanent 

 resident with us, not only frequents our broadest rivers, as the 

 Trent and Soar, but also our pools, fish-ponds, smaller brooks 

 and rills, even as high as their sources. From what I have 

 now stated, you will hardly judge it necessary for me to enter 

 my protest against the assertion made by the avithor of the 

 ' Ornithologia,"' relative to this bird and its proximity to the 

 habitations and works of man. A few minutes' walk from 

 hence^^by^our river's side, will satisfy the most scrupulous ob- 

 server that the Kingfisher is not merely a bird of the wild, 

 confined to the banks of streams remote from cities. This bird 

 feeds, and nestles too, near the habitations and in hearing of the 

 hum of men. One feeding spot which it apparently delights 

 to frequent, is immediately below our castle, where some old 

 pollard willows hang over the river, and not more than two 

 hundred yards from one of the churches. 



" The flight of the Kingfisher is direct, rapid, and impetuous, 

 and is performed with very quick beats of the wings. When 

 it is about feeding, it will suspend itself over its finny prey after 

 the manner of the Windhover, Whinchat, and Robin. It is a 

 true plunger, and in this respect is nearly allied to the Gull and 

 Tern families. Of its voracity I have had abundant evidence. 



" In January 1831, 1 accompanied a friend, an old sportsman, 

 to the flat lands of Loughborough, in quest of wild fowl. The 

 day was unusually frosty, much snow lay on the ground, the 

 brooks, canals, and rivers were completely frozen up, and the 

 feathered tribes appeared to feel the full severity of winter. 

 After a somewhat fruitless search, we began to retrace our steps, 



