BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 31 



cups grew so thickly that the glazed petals of the 

 flowers were touching; the meadow was one 

 broad expanse of brilliant yellow. I had not been 

 standing half a minute in the shade before the 

 bird I had been seeking darted out from the 

 margin, almost beneath my feet, and then, instead 

 of flying up or down stream, sped like an arrow 

 across the field of buttercups. It was a very 

 bright day, and the bird going from me with the 

 sunshine full on it, appeared entirely, of a shin- 

 ing, splendid green. Never had I seen the king- 

 fisher in such favourable circumstances; flying so 

 low above the flowery level that the swiftly 

 vibrating wings must have touched the yellow 

 petals; he was like a waif from some far tropical 

 land. The bird was tropical, but I doubt if there 

 exists within the tropics anything to compare with 

 a field of buttercups — such large and unbroken 

 surfaces of the most brilliant colour in nature. 

 The first bird's mate appeared a minute later, 

 flying in the same direction, and producing the 

 same splendid effect, and also green. These two 

 alone were seen, and only on this occasion, al- 

 though I often revisited the spot, hoping to find 

 them again. 



