Walking alongside a stream yesterday, I heard the unmistakable call of a Belted Kingfisher, a call that is usually described as a “piercing rattle.” Here is a link to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, which has sound clips that you might find interesting if you have never heard a Kingfisher’s call in person.
A previous post chronicled my quest for an elusive female Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon) at a little suburban lake that is stocked with trout. I made multiple attempts on different days to photograph that Kingfisher as she perched on tree branches overlooking the water.
Although the stream along which I was walking yesterday is only a half mile or so from the female Kingfisher’s fishing spot, I was surprised to hear a Kingfisher’s call, because there are no trees on the banks of the stream at that location. When I heard its call again, I turned my head in the direction of the sound and was surprised to see a male Kingfisher perched on a power line above the stream. (It’s really easy to distinguish a male Belted Kingfisher from a female, because the male has only a blue stripe on is chest and a female has blue and chestnut stripes.)
When I moved a little closer to him, he flew a short distance downstream and I located him again, this time perched on the railing of a railroad bridge over the stream. Over the course of an hour or so, he and I played a little game in which he would pose for a few minutes on the railing and then fly downstream. A short while later he would be back on the suspended power line. I would walk slowly in the direction of the power line and once I arrived there, the Kingfisher would return to the railroad bridge.
Although I was not able to get really close to the Kingfisher, I managed to get some pretty cool pictures, including several in-flight shots. I really like the industrial-looking setting of the railroad bridge, with its simple geometric structure and beautiful angular lines. In many ways, the bridge is a much a subject in the photos as the bird.
I confessed in a previous post that I was a stalker of Kingfishers, but maybe it’s time to elevate my status—perhaps from now on I will refer to myself as a member of the Kingfisher paparazzi.
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Mike Powell 