KINGFISHER AND CUCKOOS 169 



This Izaak Walton of birddom, whom you may see 

 perched as erect as a fish hawk on a snag in the lake, creek, 

 or river, or on a dead limb projecting over the water, on 

 the lookout for minnows, chub, red fins, samlets, or any 

 other small fry that swims past, is as expert as any fisher- 

 man you are ever likely to know. Sharp eyes are neces- 

 sary to see a little fish where sunbeams dance on the rip- 

 ples and the refracted light plays queer tricks with one's 

 vision. Once a victim is sighted, how swiftly the lone 

 fisherman dives through the air and water after it, and 

 how accurately he strikes its death-blow behind the gills! 

 If the fish be large and lusty it may be necessary to carry 

 it to the snag and give it a few sharp knocks with his long, 

 powerful bill to end its struggles. These are soon over, 

 but the kingfisher's have only begun. See him gag and 

 writhe as he swallows his dinner, head first, and then, re- 

 gretting his haste, brings it up again to try a wider avenue 

 down his throat. Somebody shot a kingfisher which had 

 tried to swallow so large a fish that the tail was sticking 

 out of his mouth, while its head was safely stored below 

 in the bird's crop. After the meat digests, the indigestible 

 skin, bones, and scales of the fish are thrown up without 

 the least nausea. 



A certain part of a favorite lake or stream this fisher- 

 man patrols with a sense of ownership and rarely leaves it. 

 Alone, but self-satisfied, he clatters up and down his beat 

 as a poHceman, going his rounds, might sound his rattle 

 from time to time. The 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 being 

 who intrudes on his domain and wants to "know" him. 



