By the Riverside 



In autumn there is a considerable increase in 

 the numbers on the larger rivers, caused by the 

 return of those birds, which have nested by side 

 streams and out-of-the-way places, bringing their 

 young with them. They are, however, quarrel- 

 some, and each tries to keep a considerable portion 

 of river as its own special preserve. While nest- 

 ing the bird keeps well out of sight, and though 

 I spent a considerable time in the neighbourhood 

 of two nests last year, I only saw a parent bird on 

 one occasion. The Kingfisher bores a tunnel of 

 varying length, sometimes as much as four feet, 

 in some bank, and in a chamber at the end 

 the female lays six or seven glossy white eggs. 

 As time goes on the hole gets well marked with 

 fish-bones and the birds' excretions. One of the 

 nests I found was only eighteen inches in, and, by 

 enlarging the entrance hole a little, sufficient light 

 was admitted to enable me to see the old bird 

 sitting with her black young ones gathered around 

 her. The enlarged hole seemed in no way to 

 trouble her, and was soon littered with fish bones, 

 but it enabled me on several subsequent occasions 

 to observe the progress made by the young, one 

 of which figures in our illustration. 



Here, too, the Herons stand solemnly and 

 patiently in the water, waiting for some fish to 

 come within striking distance of their strong spear- 

 like beaks, but they take flight at our approach with 

 slow, heavy beats of the wing. Along the banks 



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