"_The long-leaved willow, on whose bending spray,_ _The py'd Kingfisher, having got his prey,_ _Sate with the small breath of the water shaken,_ _Till he devoured the fish that he had taken._"
So writes Michael Drayton in the sixteenth century, and how true an observer of Nature the old poet was is proved by the words of our latest ornithologist: "It alights on some twig bending over the stream, its weight causing it to swing gently to and fro, whence it scans the young trout sporting in the pool below, and suddenly it will drop into the water, and almost before the spectator is aware of the fact, is back again on its perch with a struggling fish in its beak." Nor must the meaning of Drayton's "py'd" be mistaken, for in his day, and indeed much later, anything of more than one colour was called pied, so long as gaiety of tint was the result of the combination. So Shakespeare calls the daisy "pied," and Ben Jonson the rainbow.
But to come back to our kingfisher, "famousèd for
colours rare," sitting upon its twig with the tiny fish in its beak. Only, however, for half an instant, for the bird raps its little captive sharply upon the twig, perhaps more than once, and then it is gone where all little fishes go that kingfishers chance to catch. Sometimes, indeed, it is not content to swallow the wee thing in a commonplace way, but, as the toucans often do with their food, must needs throw it up into the air, and catch it with open throat head first as it falls. And if you listen you will hear the kingfisher compliment itself upon its cleverness with a congratulatory little chirrup. So, too, when it misses its aim at a passing fish--for it does miss it sometimes--it comes back to its perch with a cheery little "peep-peep," as much as to say "Never mind." And when it flies off down the stream, startled by your sudden coming, you may, if you have quick ears, hear it comforting itself in a nervous sort of way with a succession of "peeps," but if you go and hide behind the hedge or a bush, you will very soon see it returning, a swift flash of orange and blue, and lo! there is the kingfisher back again just where you first saw it, on its pliant twig, "with the small breath of the water shaken," and its clever eye fixed upon the water beneath.