When we were small boys and had successfully teased our fathers
or big brothers to let us go fishing with them, we were repeatedly admonished
not to “holler” for fear of scaring the fish. This gratuitous and
frequently emphatic advice would have been discredited if the example of
the Kingfisher had been followed. Either because noise doesn’t matter to
fish, or because he is moved by the same generous impulse which prompts
the cougar to give fair and frightful warning of his presence at the beginning
of an intended foray, the bird makes a dreadful racket as he moves
up stream and settles upon his favorite perch, a bare branch overlooking
a quiet pool. Here, altho he waits long and patiently, he not infrequently
varies the monotony of incessant scrutiny by breaking out with his weird
rattle—like a watchman’s call, some have said; but there is nothing metallic
about it, only wooden. Again, when game is sighted, he rattles with excitement
before he makes a plunge; and when he bursts out of the water
with a wriggling minnow in his beak, he clatters in high glee. If, as rarely
happens, the bird misses the stroke, the sputtering notes which follow speak
plainly of disgust, and we are glad for the moment that Kingfisher talk is
not exactly translatable.
It is not quite clear whether the bird usually seizes or spears its prey,
altho it is certain that it sometimes does the latter. The story is told of
a Kingfisher which, spying some minnows in a wooden tub nearly filled
with water, struck so eagerly that its bill penetrated the bottom of the
tub, and so thoroly that the bird was unable to extricate itself; and so
died—a death almost as ignominious as that of the king who was drowned in
a butt of Malmsey wine.
When a fish is taken the bird first thrashes it against its perch to make sure it is
dead, and then swallows it head foremost. If the fish is a large one its captor
often finds it necessary to go thru the most ridiculous contortions, gaspings, writhings,
chokings, regurgitations, and renewed attempts, in order to encompass its
safe delivery within.
Kingfishers have the reputation of being very unsocial birds. Apart from their
family life, which is idyllic, this reputation is well sustained. Good fishing is so
scarce that the birds deem it best to portion off the territory with others of their
own kind, and they are very
punctilious about the observance of boundaries and allotments. For the
rest, why should they hunt up avian companions, whose tastes are not
educated to an appreciation of exposed, water-soaked stubs, and a commanding
view of river scenery? However, I did once see a Kingfisher affably hobnobbing
with a Kingbird, on a barren branch which overlooked a crystal
stream in Idaho. I wonder if they recognized a mutual kingliness, this
humble fisherman and this petulant hawk-driver?
Kingfisher courtship is a very noisy and spirited affair. One does not
know just how many miles up and down stream it is considered proper for
the gallant to pursue his enamorata before she yields a coy acceptance; and
it is difficult to perceive how the tender passion can survive the din of the
actual proposal, where both vociferate in wooden concert to a distracted
world. But la! love is mighty and doth mightily prevail.
The nesting tunnel is driven laterally into the face of a steep bank,
preferably of sand or loam, usually directly over the water, but occasionally
at a considerable distance from it. Dr. Brewer reports one in a
gravel pit at least a mile from water. The birds are not so particular
as are the Bank Swallows about digging near the top of the bank, but,
especially if the bank is small, usually
select a point about midway. The
tunnel goes straight in or turns sharply
to suit an occasional whim, until a
convenient depth, say five or six feet,
is reached, when a considerable enlargement
is made for the nest chamber.
Here, early in May, six or seven
white eggs are laid, usually upon the
bare earth, but sometimes upon a lining
of grass, straw and trash. From
time to time the birds eject pellets
containing fish scales, the broken
testæ of crawfish and other indigestible
substances and these are
added to the accumulating nest material.
Sanitary regulations are not
very strict in Kingfisher’s home, and
by the time the young are ready to
fly we could not blame them for being
glad to get away. The female is
a proverbially close sitter, often permitting
herself to be taken with the
hand, but not until after she has
made a vigorous defense with her
sharp beak. If a stick be introduced
into the nest she will sometimes
seize it so tightly that she can be lifted from the eggs, turtle fashion.
The parents are very busy birds after the young have broken shell,
and it takes many a quintal of fish to prepare six, or maybe seven, lusty
fisher princes for the battle of life. At this season the birds hunt and
wait upon their young principally at night, in order not to attract hostile
attention to them by daylight visits. Only one brood is raised in a
season, and since fishing is unquestionably a fine art, the youngsters
require constant supervision and instruction for several months. A troop
of six or eight birds seen in August or early in September does not
mean that Kingfisher is indulging in mid-summer gaities with his fellows,
but only that the family group of that season has not yet been broken up.
The Kingfisher is not only a fresh water bird of wide distribution, but
a lover of the sea. It is found thruout the length of our ample shores on
both sound and ocean; but is, of course, most common where suitable nesting
bluffs of clay or sand are afforded. Thruout western Washington the bird
is largely resident, and if this very stable species ever does begin to show
variation, it will be in the Pacific Northwest.
[1]The Birds of Ohio, by William Leon Dawson, A. M., B. D., with Introduction and Analytical Keys
by Lynds Jones, M. Sc. One and Two Volumes, pp. xlviii. + 671. Columbus, The Wheaton Publishing
Company, 1903.
[2]Key to North American Birds, by Elliott Coues, A. M., M. D., Ph. D., Fifth Edition (entirely
revised), in Two Volumes; pp. xli. + 1152. Boston, Dana Estes and Company, 1903.
[3]The Birds of North and Middle America, by Robert Ridgway, Curator, Division of Birds, U. S.
National Museum, Bulletin of the U. S. N. M., No. 50; Pt. I.,
Fringillidae, pp. xxxi. + 715 and Pl. XX.
(1901); Pt. II.,
Tanagridae, etc., pp. xx. + 834 and Pl. XXII. (1902); Pt. III.,
Motacillidae, etc., pp.
xx. + 801 and Pl. XIX. (1904); Pt. IV.,
Turdidae, etc., pp. xxll. + 973 and Pl. XXXIV. (1907).
[4]“The Naturalist in Vancouver Island and British Columbia,” by John Keast Lord. Two Vols.
London. Published by Richard Bentley, 1866. Vol. II., p. 70.
[5]Rep. Pac. R. R. Survey, Vol. XII., Bk. II. [Senate, 1860].
[6]Bull. Nutt. Orn. Club,
Vol. VI., p. 140.
[7]The Auk, Vol. III., 1886, p. 167.
[8]Life Histories of N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 394.
[9]Handbook Birds of the Western U. S., pp. 278-9.
[10]The Auk, Vol. XVII., Oct. 1900, p. 354.
[11]The Auk, Vol. IX., Jan. 1892, p. 45.
[12]Since writing the above specimens have been taken at Kirkland by Miss Jennie V. Getty (Dec. 1908).
[13]Rep. Nat’l Hist. Coll. in Alaska, pp. 174, 175.
[14]By “shading” here is not meant subspecific relationship, altho this does obtain as regarding both
griseonucha and
littoralis, but rather suggestive relationship, assumed divergence from a common stock.
[15]“Birds of Illinois,” Vol. I., p. 263.
[16]So
called for decades, but now lost to us thru the latest caprice of nomenclature.
Varium et
mutabile semper A. O. U. Check-List.
[17]Until the season of 1908. See
ante under “Migrations.”
[18]“(?) Bendire, Proc. Bost. Soc. N. H. XIX., 1877, 118 (Camp Harney, e. Oregon, breeding)” (Ridgway).
[19]Based upon that of
Melospiza melodia from which it differs slightly in proportions but chiefly in
grayer coloration. The measurements are those of Ridgway, Birds of N. & M. A., Vol. I., p. 358.
[20]Birds of North and Mid. Am., Vol. I., p. 391.
[21]Birds of North and Middle America, Vol. I., p. 401.
[22]Coues, “Birds of the Northwest” (Ed. 1874), p. 177.
[23]Lynds Jones in Dawson’s “The Birds of Ohio,” p. 94.
[24]Applied to
P. erythromelas in “The Birds of Ohio,” p. 109, and exactly applicable here.
[25]Handbook of Birds of W. U. S., p. 419.
[26]Coues’ Key to N. A. Birds, Fourth Edition, is especially referred to. The matter has been corrected
in the Fifth Edition.
[27]The Condor, Vol. VIII., March 1906, p. 41.
[28]“Narrative,” April 1839, p. 343.
[29]A Review of the Larks of the Genus Otocoris, Proc. U. S. Nat’l Mus., Vol. XXIV., pp. 801-884,
1902.
[30]Much clearer testimony is required on this point. Oberholser,
op. cit., p. 839, cites a record for
Colton in Whitman County, but I have never seen this form in Yakima County; and it would seem
remarkable that a bird should forsake the mild climate of Tacoma to endure the more severe winters
and less certain food supply of the East-side.
[31]A near view of this remarkable nest was forbidden by the breaking of a negative.
[32]Narrative of a Journey Across the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River [etc.], by John K.
Townsend (1839), p. 339. Townsend’s “Catalog of birds found in the territory of the Oregon,” which
appeared in this work, pp. 331-336, enjoys the distinction of being the first faunal list of this northwestern
region. It contains 208 titles but the naturalist included in it mention of many species encountered
by him in his passage of the Rocky Mountains, and he does not, of course, distinguish between
the regions lying north and south of the Columbia River. Of the total number recorded, therefore,
Washington cannot possibly be entitled to above 168 species, and the list has little value in establishing
the status of a bird as a resident of Washington.
[33]Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., Vol. VI., 1857, p. 82.
[34]Coues, Birds of the Northwest (1874), pp. 95, 96.
[35]Prof. O. B. Johnson in his “List of
the Birds of the Willamette Valley, Oregon” [Am. Naturalist,
July, 1880, p. 487] has made an excellent characterization of this song in
“
Holsey, govendy, govindy, goveendy.”
[36]Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., Vol. XII., Book II., 1860, p. 171.
[37]Auk, vol. XV., April, 1898, p. 130.
[38]Narrative (1839), p. 344.
[39]Baird, Brewer & Ridgway, Vol. I., p. 65 [Reprint].
[40]Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv., Vol XII., 1859, p. 173.
[41]Baird, Brewer & Ridgway, Land Birds, Vol. I., p. 66 [Reprint].
[42]“American Birds,” by William Lovell Finley (1907), p. 170.
[43]First record by R. H. Lawrence: Two seen on Stevens Prairie [Gray’s Harbor County] April 22
[1891] (
Vide Àuk, Vol. IX., Jan. 1892, p. 47). Second record by the author: Male and female with
five full-grown young encountered near Sluiskin Falls on Mt. Rainier, July 7, 1908, at an altitude of
6500 feet.
[44]Ridgway: Six specimens.
[45]“The present example of an isolated colony of a particular form, or what must be regarded as the
same form in the absence of obvious distinctive characters, is one of several instances which are very
troublesome to both the systematist and the student of geographic distribution. The birds of this species
occurring, exclusively, in the area defined above are clearly intermediates between
P. a. septentrionalis,
a form larger and paler than
P. a. atricapillus, which occupies the region immediately eastward, and
P. a. occidentalis, a form smaller and darker than
P. a. atricapillus, which inhabits the region immediately
westward. It thus happens that, while these puzzling birds are practically, if not absolutely, indistinguishable
from
P. a. atricapillus they can hardly be considered exactly the same, since they are everywhere
widely cut off from the latter by the very extensive area occupied by
P. a. septentrionalis.”—Ridgway.
[46]Shading into the following variety,
C. f. occidentalis, upon the lower levels.
[47]“The Birds of Cheney, Washington,” The Condor, Vol. VIII., Jan., 1906, p. 25 [No scientific
name given].
[48]“The Birds of N. and M. America,” Vol. III., p. 659.
[49]Cooper and Suckley, Rep. Pac. R. R. Surv. XII., pt. II., 1860, p. 185.
[50]Rev. S. H. Goodwin in “The Condor,” Vol. VII., No. 4, p. 100.
[51]The Auk, Vol. XX., July, 1903, p. 283.
[52]“Pacific Sportsman,” Vol. 2, June, 1905, p. 270.
[53]The Condor, Vol. VII., July, August, 1905, p. 100.
[54]Birds of Gray’s Harbor, Wash., Auk, Vol. IX., Jan., 1892, p. 46.
[55]Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., N. Y., Vol. III., p. 149.
[56]The Auk, Vol. IX., Oct., 1892, p. 396.
[57]The Auk, Vol. XV., Jan., 1898, p. 18.
[58]Auk, Vol. XIX., Apr., 1902, p. 138.
[59]Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci. Phila., 1893, p. 54.
[60]Cat. B. C. Birds Prov. Mus., Victoria, 1904, p. 52.
[61]C. W. and J. H. Bowles in The Auk, Vol. XV., Apr., 1898, p. 139.
[62]Ridgway (B. of N. & M. Am.) recognizes two color phases of this bird, a white- and a yellow-bellied.
In the latter the plumage of upperparts inclines more strongly to olivaceous.
[63]Auk, Vol. IX., Jan. 1892, p. 44.
[64]Bendire, Life Histories N. A. Birds, Vol. II., pp. 217, 218.
[65]Bendire, Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 219.
[66]The Hummingbirds (Rep. Nat. Mus., 1890, pp. 253-383, plate I).
[67]These words are used advisedly. The case reported
from the sea-wall of Santa Cruz County, California,
claims
no nest and only
one egg. If this be not
a case of misidentification, then it is an example of
freak nesting utterly at variance with all Swift traditions,
and with much that is actually known concerning
the habits of this species.
The classic instance reported from Seattle in the columns
of the Auk (Vol. V., ’88, p. 424) of a nest
“made of straws, chips, paper, etc.,” proved to concern
the handiwork of the Purple Martin (Progne subis),
but the mistake was a not unnatural one in view of
the then rarity of the Martin.
[68]Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II., 1895, p. 176.
[69]Life Hist. N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 185.
[70]Allan Brooks in The Auk, Vol. XXVI., Jan. 1909.
[71]The Auk, vol. V., 1888, p. 253.
[72]“Birds of Ohio,” p. 350.
[73]The Wilson Bulletin, No. 39, June, 1902, p. 63.
[74]Life Histories of N. A. Birds, Vol. II., p. 107.
