As a lifelong birder, it’s easy to be misunderstood in the outdoors, while in mixed company. Immediately following a blank stare into surrounding nothingness in the middle of an otherwise sane conversation, it goes like this: “Wait! A red-bellied woodpecker!” Response: “Huh? Where? I don’t see anything.”
While the uninitiated remains confused, I’ll concentrate on a distant bird call, ever vigilant for a glimpse of movement. “See. Over there. Looks like a male. Sorry. What were we talking about?”
Just last week it happened again, but at least this time I was alone. Normally we see migratory birds returning to our area the first part of March, give or take a few weeks. But, this familiar call sounded like a belted kingfisher. No, it couldn’t be. It’s way too early. So, I blew it off, thinking to myself maybe I was hearing things and went about my business.
But, when I heard the repetitive, distinctive dry rattling call a week later, I recognized the presence of an airborne predator like no other. I had to get closer. First, a run for my movie camera and then a stalk to the creek. With the sun at my back, I moved closer to the sound of the chatter, while being as stealthy as cover would allow.
Directly above the water the winged hunter zipped past me with what appeared to be a huge frog dangling from its mouth. The kingfisher perched in a tall cottonwood in perfect alignment with the blinding sun, as it contemplated a more serene setting for dinner. Off it flew.
While both male and female kingfishers are flamboyant, conspicuous birds, the female is actually more colorful than the male, a trait seldom seen in the avian world. These predators tend to hunt by perching above a waterway, giving them an unrestricted look below. Once its prey is sighted, it will hover briefly and then dive vertically into the water like a weight-forward dart with wings spread to break the plane of the water. The spectacular scene is complete, as the solitary hunter emerges from the water and takes flight with its prey secured in its long, lethal beak.
One mystery had been solved. At the same time, another one unfolded: A frog in winter? How’s that possible?
A bit of research uncovered some unusual facts about aquatic frogs that began to end my puzzlement. They typically hibernate underwater near oxygen-rich water partially lying on top of the mud or only somewhat buried – even swimming from time to time. The nearby creek had just enough open water to make the frog’s vulnerability fatal.
I didn’t get the video hoped for, but nonetheless, the education was worth the effort. Since then, the sound of the kingfisher has returned, and with the recent blast of old-fashioned winter weather, it’ll be rough duty for the flying fisher until spring arrives.
