For those who aren't proper birders, Kingfishers aren't really a bird at all. They are that flash that streaks down the river side. It is almost as though they have been concocted from the photons of
dazzling orange and electric blue before being pulsated above the
waters surface. There is no biological substance to them but the light and sound of their high pitched whistles. Perhaps they don't exist in the physical world at all. Maybe an embodiment of the spirit of the river, the very soul of an ecosystem both beautiful and delicate in one moment.
To see one in detail and have the chance to actually study these birds is something else entirely. To catch one of these sprites unawares and have the chance to watch it preen or fish is as though you have stumbled upon a sacred gem, buried deep within a river temple fit to bursting with biodiversity. It is then that you can appreciate the form of an animal crafted by evolution to deliver the final moments to the fish that swim beneath its feet. A jeweled assassin of the waterways.
To catch one is the ultimate prize. It's as if plucking a star out the sky suddenly became possible or by some powerful force you were able to hold lightning in your hand.
After 5 years of ringing I am lucky enough to say I was able to have such an experience as our group caught a pair at Creswell Crags this past Sunday. A day that will certainly never be forgotten.
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| The female that was caught first. Her red lower mandible tells you the sex of Kingfishers |
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| The detailing on these birds is out of this world |
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| That flash of blue |
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| Male (foreground) and female side by side |
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| One of the BEST ringing experiences I've ever had |
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