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It is usually the throaty clackity sound that makes the initial announcement that our friend Kingfisher has returned to Angelkeep for another season. She’s a bit on the shy side. Only scant visual sightings are offered except when Mrs. Kingfisher is in motion.
She truly is a fisherman, as the named implies. No doubt. In fact, once again, as in years of the recent past, this bird has claimed the first catch of the season from Angelpond. I doubt I could take the honor if I tried. She probably caught a fish I’d fattened with stale bread just hours earlier. I’ve been bested by a lady. She has the belted two-color breast of the female kingfisher. It’s rare in the bird world that the female is more colorful than its mate.
This visit was an unusual surprise in that the first sighting, coming this year from the observant eyes of Gwen, was not preceded by any noise.
“Is that our kingfisher in the tree?” I had to study her direction of observation, and determine which tree to scan before I found the bird. It sat on a main limb, void of any leaf obstruction, low on the ash tree across Angelpond, but yet as high up as the second story of the house.
In its beak was the first Angelpond catch of 2008. The achievement had gone unnoticed but now the bird seemed more than willing to share the activity of dining on the catch. Only a visual share was offered our direction. Mrs. Kingfisher spent a good period of time flipping the fingerling fish about in its beak. The fish appeared through binoculars to be at least as long as one of my fingers. It was the length and more of this kingfisher’s bill.
It continued to half toss the fish and then recatch it as though playing with it like a cat with a mouse. Flipped it like a hot cake in a skillet. I could not determine if the intent was to kill the fish or to simply aim it appropriately for the swallow. I have seen a great blue heron do the same thing with a fish, just not as many times. In the heron’s throat there seemed to be a bit of live wiggle left to the fish as it slid down the long stretched gullet.
Eventually, Mrs. Kingfisher tired of playing with the small gill, or was satisfied with the aim. She gulped. It started down. The bird’s bill was extended wide and the body and tail sliding in looked more like a tongue darting from the bill as one would see with a hummingbird drinking Gwen-cooked nectar.
With the dining task complete, Mrs. Kingfisher surprised us again by not leaving. She flew closer, to the back of a black wrought iron chair on the pier. Now it was about eye level and much closer. Close enough for a detailed look at the magnificent bird. Disappointingly she was also silent.
Was she fishing again or resting and digesting? She was taking deep breaths, like I have found myself doing after overindulging. Maybe she was simply saying, “Look at me.”
Bird books call a banded kingfisher’s color blue but it seemed different on this overcast day. Her head was a rich dark charcoal with a neck band of pure white that was nearly a half-inch thick. It was such a perfect neck band it appeared painted on. The typical crest of the kingfisher was the same color as the head, stood nearly as tall as the head itself, and looked a lot like she’d used too much “Butch Wax,” (an old hair spiking gel) like my brother Gary did when he was younger. A bright white spot showed on the eye, or eye brow, or eyelid. It was as pronounced as the neck collar. It’s beak, fully as long as the head was from front to back, was the same charcoal color on the tip, fading to lighter gray nearer the face. When it looked our way, the hard bill caught light, thus somehow making it look white on top.
The body and wings were a cool gray color. Proving her gender, the breast was cream with rusty-orange mottled in. She was symmetrical from the front, giving additional banding characteristic. Its tail was dark like the head, with white eye matching spots on the tip of the tail feathers.
We watched for the longest time. It was a new record for hanging out at Angelkeep for this kingfisher. She left undetected and silent. It was a splendid visit regardless. She’ll return repeatedly. She’ll arrive with her usual boisterous clackity rattle that wakes up an early morning with the announcement, “Greetings, today is a beautiful day.” And because the announcement is made by Mrs. Kingfisher, our very own Mrs. Kingfisher, it is indeed.
Mr. Daugherty is a Wells County resident who, along with his wife Gwen, enjoy their back yard and have named it “Angelkeep.”
by ALAN DAUGHERTY
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