110 
BIRD LIFE IN WASHINGTON 
NORTHWESTERN BELTED KING 
FISHER 
Here is an excellent fisherman who 
never fishes for money. He uses his catch 
for the family table only. Any day in 
the year it is no surprise to the human 
fisherman to have this feathered angler 
beat him at the trade within a few rods 
of him. 
From a branch or a telephone wire, 
King Fisher watches his chance, plunges 
into the water, and usually he brings up 
a fish. Sometimes he fails. Then lie flies 
to a neighboring branch and comforts 
himself by singing. It sounds as though 
he were rattling trombones. He can rat- 
tie those trombones just as loudly as he 
flies as ivlien he is sitting. 
His home is well concealed. It is a tun¬ 
nel which leads far into the bank at right 
angles to the stream. At the end of this 
he scoops out a depression for the eggs. 
Once a followed this tunnel for six feet 
into the bank. At the end of this there 
were half a dozen birds. Tliev were old 
enough to fly. We let all of them go but 
the one we wished to stand for his picture. 
We tried first to paint the mother bird, 
but she cried all the time; so we took her 
to the door; she rose in the air, circled 
around a few times as if to get her bear- 
