170 THE KINGFISHER. 



it grows a small oak, part of the roots of which are 

 bare ; the earth and gravel having gradually left 

 them, and fallen into the stream below. In the bank 

 where these roots are seen, about six feet from the 

 surface of the water, is a hole in which a pair of 

 kingfishers have had their nest time out of mind. 

 They have afforded me the best possible opportu- 

 nities of examining their economy ; and, from what 

 I have seen, I am perfectly satisfied that this pair 

 of birds, at least, lives entirely upon fish : I have 

 never been able to detect these kingfishers feeding 

 either upon snails, or worms, or insects. They 

 bring up a fish from the water, crosswise in their 

 bills, and then chuck it down their throats head 

 foremost. I do not think that they ever eat a fish 

 piecemeal : and these birds, with me, never utter 

 their ordinary shrill piping succession of notes, 

 except when they are on the wing. 



I love to take my stand behind a large tree, and 

 watch the kingfisher as he hovers over the water, 

 and at last plunges into it, with a velocity like that 

 of an arrow from a bow. How we are lost in asto- 

 nishment when we reflect that instinct forces this 

 little bird to seek its sustenance underneath the 

 water ; and that it can emerge from it in perfect 

 safety ; though it possesses none of the faculties 

 (save that of plunging) which have been so liberally 

 granted to most other birds which frequent the 

 deep ! I sometimes fancy that it is all over with it, 

 when I see it plunge into a pond, which I know to 

 be well stocked with ravenous pike : still it in- 



