, claws to strike. He swerved aside and shot 

 156 



upward in a great slant to a dead spruce top, 

 •Aomenos where he stood watching intently till the 

 Outcast dark beak of a brooding kingfisher reached 

 out of the hole to receive the fish that her 

 mate had brought her. Whereupon Kos- 

 komenos swept away to his watchtower above 

 the minnow pool, and the hawk set his wings 

 toward the outlet, where a brood of young 

 sheldrakes were taking their first lessons in 

 the open water. 



No wonder the birds look askance at 

 Kingfisher. His head is ridiculously large ; 

 his feet ridiculously small. He is a poem of 

 grace in the air; but he creeps like a lizard, 

 or waddles like a duck in the rare moments 

 when he is afoot. His mouth is big enough 

 to take in a minnow whole ; his tongue so 

 small that he has no voice, but only a harsh 

 klr-r-r-r-ik-ik-ik, like a watchman's rattle. 

 He builds no nest, but rather a den in the 

 bank, in which he lives most filthily half the 

 day ; yet the other half he is a clean, beauti- 

 ful creature, with never a suggestion of earth, 

 but only of the blue heavens above and the 



