98 
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
sheltered it may be, it will always turn its beak in a 
different direction to the wind. 
I am not aware of the kingfisher possessing any 
attractions, save its plumage, though ancient poets 
laud it as a singing bird, and Virgil ranks it equal 
to the linnet. In my aquatic excursions, I have fre- 
quently seen this bird suspended in the air ; and 
when the glorious sun has been shining on its many 
coloured dazzling plumage, it has almost reconciled 
me to the inelegancy of its form. My pencil gives 
but a faint idea of the splendour of colouring ; it 
requires the rich light of the resplendent luminary 
reflected on it, to shew all the variety of tints — and 
it may be said of the kingfisher as Lord Byron said 
of the rose — 
And grateful yields that smiling sky, 
Her fairest hue, and brightest dye." 
We must hear what Bechstein says of him : — 
"When wild, this is a solitary bird, which remains 
the whole year on the edges of ponds, streams, and 
rivers. During winter, it may be seen watching for 
its prey at the holes in the ice, placed on a stone or 
