KLEIN] THE BELTED KINGFISHER 169 



because this rattle-leader bird knows every pool where minnows 

 play, every projection along the bank where a fish might hide, and 

 is ever on the alert, not only to catch a dinner, but to escape from 

 the sight of the human intruder. 



This is in line with Mr. Widmann's theory of the inability of 

 some birds to indulge the social instinct, for the Kingfisher's feed- 

 ing habits may well necessitate private preserves. Whatever sea- 

 birds may do, troutstream fishermen can ill afford to go in flocks. 

 Can you step into the boots, or rather the plumage of the kingfisher 

 for a moment ? Can you put yourself in his place ? You could not 

 possibly be a social bird like the chippy and chickadee, could you? 

 The kingfisher seems to think as you would, that a companion 

 would talk and scare the fish. 



Have you ever watched the kingfisher along Fall Creek? Here 

 he comes flying over the tree-tops, with his head high in the air, 

 and, like the boat coming in at the wharf, he sounds his rattle 

 before landing. He perches on a dead limb overhanging the water. 

 It seems that this is one of his lounging outlooks, and not his place 

 of business. No angling here! Occasionally he turns his head, 

 and watches the water carefully. What a big, chunky bird he is, 

 fully a foot long! The crested feathers on top of his big, powerful 

 head reach backward to the nape like an Indian chief's feather 

 bonnet, and give him distinction. His colors are beautiful and 

 harmonious; the upper parts are grayish blue, the throat and 

 collar white, as is also the breast, which has a bluish gray band 

 across the upper part, this giving the name of the Belted King- 

 fisher to the bird. The feathers of the long strong wings are tipped 

 with white, the feathers of the short, square tail are narrowly 

 barred with white. He has posed for us unintentionally, of course, 

 but he seems to be getting restless. It may be he is aware of our 

 presence. We have barely time to catch a glimpse from our hiding 

 place of a striking white spot just in front of the eye, and he is off, 

 not with whoop and a yell, but a rattle. 



Not especially pleasant close at hand, but not unmusical at a 

 distance is the note of the kingfisher. Flying well over the tree 

 tops or along the waterways, he makes the woodland echo with his 

 noisy alarm-clock like rattle, that breaks the stillness like a watch- 

 man's at midnight. It is perhaps the most familiar sound heard 

 along the banks of the inland rivers; "it is a sound that conjures 

 visions of shade-dappled streams and the dancing, blue waters of 



