456 



THE BELTED KINGFISHER. 



a Kingfisher which, spying some minnows in a wooden tub nearly filled 

 with water, struck so eagerly that its bill penetrated the bottom of the 

 tub, and so thorolv that the bird was unable to extricate itself; and so 



died — a death almost as 

 ignominous as that of the 

 king who was drowned in 

 a butt of Malmsey wine. 



When a fish is taken the 

 bird first thrashes it against 

 its perch to make sure it is 

 dead, and then swallows it 

 head foremost. If the fish 

 is a large one its captor 

 often finds it necessary to go 

 thru the most ridiculous 

 contortions, gaspings, writh- 

 ings, chokings, regurgita- 

 tions, and renewed attempts, 

 in order to encompass its 

 safe delivery within. 



Kingfishers have the repu- 

 tation of being very unsocial 

 birds. Apart from their 

 family life, which is idyllic, 

 this reputation is well sus- 

 tained. Good fishing is so 

 scarce that the birds deem 

 it best to portion off the 

 territory with others of their 

 own kind, and they are very 

 punctilious about the observance of boundaries and allotments. For the 

 rest, why should they hunt up avian companions, whose tastes are not 

 educated to an appreciation of exposed, water-soaked stubs, and a commanding 

 view of river scenery? However, I did once see a Kingfisher affably hob- 

 nobbing with a Kingbird, on a barren branch which overlooked a crystal 

 stream in Idaho. I wonder if they recognized a mutual kingliness, this 

 humble fisherman and this petulant hawk-driver? 



Kingfisher courtship is a very noisy and spirited affair. One does not 

 know just how many miles up and down stream it is considered proper for 

 the gallant to pursue his enamorata before she yields a coy acceptance; and 

 it is difficult to perceive how the tender passion can survive the din of the 



Portland. Photo by A. W. Anthony. 



A FISHER PRINCE AT HOME. 



