160 KNOWING BIRDS THROUGH STORIES 



everywhere with the exception of my own home country, 

 the southeastern part of Iowa. There the water is usually 

 too muddy for fish to he seen. There is some variation in 

 the size of this bird in the different parts of the country, 

 but the difference is not great. Everywhere this solitary 

 bird reigns supreme as the king of fishers. He never 

 has time to play and knows nothing of song save the rat- 

 tling "Rickety, crick, crick, crick" which he sends forth 

 when he sees an unwelcome stranger in his domain, and 

 he waits for this until he is on the wing and safe out of 

 gunshot. 



A few years ago, on the banks of White's Creek, near 

 Nashville, Tennessee, I had an opportunity to study the 

 kingfisher at leisure and to watch his home life. Unlike 

 most birds, the kingfisher does not seem to mind the cold. 

 As long as there is open water and good fishing, he does 

 not migrate, no matter what the temperature. I have seen 

 him in Montana fishing in the mountain streams when 

 the thermometer stood at thirty or forty degrees below 

 zero without seeming to mind the cold in the least; and he 

 was the same busy silent fisher that I had seen in the 

 middle of the Michigan summer. So in Tennessee I was 

 not surprized to find him on the same sycamore limb 

 almost every day in the year. 



The kingfisher is a solitary bird, and loves nothing so 

 well as to be alone ; but after the high water in the spring 

 of 1912 two kingfishers decided they would forego the 

 privilege of being alone for the privilege of raising a 

 family, and that it was time to get busy. After flying up 

 and down the creek together, examining every bank that 

 looked as tho it might be above high water mark, they 

 selected a spot about ten feet above low water level, and 



