) This fine
bright morning, down by the creek, he has come out for a spree,
circling, flirting, chirping at a round rate. While I am writing these
lines he is disporting himself in scoots and rings over the wider
parts of the pond, into whose surface he dashes, once or twice making
a loud _souse_--the spray flying in the sun--beautiful! I see his
white and dark-gray plumage and peculiar shape plainly, as he has
deign'd to come very near me. The noble, graceful bird! Now he
is sitting on the limb of an old tree, high up, bending over the
water--seems to be looking at me while I memorandize. I almost fancy
he knows me. _Three days later._--My second kingfisher is here with
his (or her) mate. I saw the two together flying and whirling around.
I had heard, in the distance, what I thought was the clear rasping
staccato of the birds several times already--but I couldn't be sure
the notes came from both until I saw them together. To-day at noon
they appear'd, but apparently either on business, or for a little
limited exercise only. No wild frolic now, full of free fun and
motion, up and down for an hour. Doubtless, now they have cares,
duties, incubation responsibilities. The frolics are deferr'd till
summer-close.
I don't know as I can finish to-day's memorandum better than with
Coleridge's lines, curiously appropriate in more ways than one:
All Nature seems at work--slugs leave their lair,
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing,
And winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of spring;
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
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