Songs of the Fields 



bird the oriole with breast and heart of gold, 

 flashes above it; the cardinal, with shrill whistle, 

 nests beside it; the catbird and jay, the robin, The 

 thrush, dove, and chat, all home along its banks, T yp cal 

 and in them nests the typical bird of the river, the 

 kingfisher. 



No wonder he laughs so loud, 



No wonder he looks so proud, 



There are great kings would give their royalty, 



To have one day of his felicity." 



Thus sang Maurice Thompson, the sweetest 

 musician the Wabash ever knew. Six feet the 

 birds tunnel into a pebbly, firm embankment; on 

 the ground deposit at least six oblong, white eggs, 

 and the mother w r alls them in with regurgitated 

 fish bones heaped around her as she broods. One 

 family to a season is the rule, and the young re- 

 main long in the nest before they become self-sup- 

 porting and add their voices to the chorus of the 

 river. 



The kingfisher is one of the birds of most an- 

 cient history, and very interesting. A large vol- 

 ume could be filled with tradition and story con- 

 cerning it. This proves that people of all time 

 have found it worthy of consideration. Its song 

 is not musical according to our standards, but it 

 is the gayest, most care- free, rollicking bird of the 

 river, and one whose presence is almost universally 

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