4 ABN 
BELTED KINGFISHER. 59 
and his glistening white throat. If he lights on 
a dead stub by the water, and you can see the 
compact, oily plumage that is adapted for cold 
plunges, you will think him handsome in spite of 
his topheaviness. He sits like the catbird, and 
watches the fish come toward the surface. But 
before they know what has happened they are 
wrigeling in his bill. After catching a fish he 
quickly carries it back to his perch, to be devoured 
at his leisure. 
The kingfisher shows us a new style of nest, 
though it might seem that there had been variety 
enough before. There was the “adobe house ” 
of the robin, the coarse bundle of sticks gathered 
by the crow, the exquisite lichen-covered cup of 
the humming-bird, the loose, clumsy-looking nests 
of the eatbird and cuckoo, the frame house rented 
by the bluebird, the tiny wall pocket glued to the 
chimney by the swift, the grass houses of the bob- 
olink and meadow-lark, the mud bowl of the barn 
swallow, the airy gray pocket of the oriole, and 
the snug wooden retreats of the chickadee and 
yellow hammer. But here is something stranger 
than any of them —a burrow in the earth, that 
might well be the hole of some shy animal rather 
than the home of a bird. It is usually dug in 
the banks of rivers or streams. 
As the kingfisher spends most of his time on 
the wing, his feet are small and weak, different 
enough from the powerful feet and claws of the 
