A Kingfisher Encounter 2nd August 2019

Everyone knows what a Kingfisher looks like. An ornithological jewel of bright blue and chestnut orange making it one, if not the most colourful of birds to be resident in Britain, its bright colours almost too exotic for our oft cloud shrouded island.

It is a secretive bird, haunting rivers and lakes and flies at high speed along waterways or even across country from one stretch of water to another. Usually any sighting is a seconds only view of a seemingly disembodied electric blue flash (from the feathers on its back) hurtling away downstream, accompanied by a high pitched whistle and then the apparition is gone. 

Kingfishers are small birds with a disproportionately large head and bill attached to a dumpy body, with a short tail and very short legs, giving it a squat, compact form.

So far, all well and good, but the ultimate prize is to see a Kingfisher at rest or at least still for long enough to admire its beauty. Fortunately I know of a place, a pool where I have, in the past, watched one perched on either a post or small branch and going about its business of fishing. 

The place in question is a slightly decrepit hide just beyond the far side of Farmoor Reservoir, unoccupied for long periods and hidden away in bushes near the Thames Path, overlooking a small pool of shallow water, that is for much of the time unexceptional and little troubled by birdlife. 

However it is here, and with much patience, that a Kingfisher can sometimes be seen perched on a post in the pool and fishing for minutes on end.

The view from the hide with the post and alder, both of
which are perches favoured by the Kingfishers

The pool with the post on which the Kingfisher will sometimes perch

I had seen both a male and female Kingfisher at the pool during the Spring but then they disappeared to excavate a nest hole and breed further up the River Thames, which flows just a few metres away from the hide. 

I forgot about the Kingfishers.

A few days ago a casual conversation with Dai, who covers Farmoor daily, resulted in him telling me he had recently seen a Kingfisher when he visited the hide. It was a quiet day on the reservoir, hot and still, so I decided to go and sit in the hide and chance my luck. It would need a lot of patience, it always does, but whatever transpired it would be calm and peaceful in the hide and if nothing else would provide an opportunity for gentle contemplation, something  I quite like to do to keep body and soul intact.

Mind you, when I say patience that is an understatement. Maybe I was just unlucky but I sat for five hours and saw not a sign of a Kingfisher. In fact I saw very little, just a couple of drab juvenile Moorhens picking at bits of vegetation in the water, while a hen Pheasant brought  her brood of four well grown young to the water's edge. Occasionally a Willow Warbler or Reed Warbler spirited themselves out of the dense stands of reeds and a female Emperor Dragonfly spent much of the time covering the whole area of the pool, distributing eggs into the shallow water by bending the lower half of her green body into the water to deposit egg after egg. 

The hide was warm and musty from the heat of the sun. I became drowsy and folded my arms on the wooden shelf in front of the open window, then rested my head on my arms.  Time ceased to be relevant, all was quiet, no one came to disturb me and it was beguiling, alone in the  cloistered warmth of the hide with just the rustling of reeds, caressed by a gentle breeze and the athsmatic cooing of Woodpigeons in the alders around the hide. Sleep engulfed me.

I awoke with a start and gave up my vigil, resolving to return the next day. 

Getting there at 6am the next morning I resumed my now familiar position on the hard wooden bench in the hide and for the next six hours anticipated the arrival of a Kingfisher but to no avail. The same actors took the stage as yesterday with the added excitement of two Muntjac, briefly running around in the water at the far side of the pool. The Kingfisher remained a forlorn hope as the hours passed but came there neither sight nor sound of it. 

Muntjac Deer

With the passing years and the consequent battling of various adversities, both physical and mental I have, I suppose, developed a stoicism, a determination, a will to succeed and I was not about to give up on the Kingfisher but for today it was more than enough and I headed for a welcome coffee  in the yacht club cafe. There is always another day.

A day or so later, as often happens, I chanced to meet Dai wandering down the reservoir causeway and he told me that with B. he had got a fleeting view of the Kingfisher from the hide yesterday. I determined to try to see the Kingfisher the next morning, Friday.

True to my resolve I walked to the hide, on a lovely warm and sunny Friday morning at just after 8am and quietly opened the door to the hide. As per usual it was unoccupied and stealthily I crept along the back wall of the hide and  looked through the closed windows. I was expecting to see nothing but there, sat on the post in the pool, right in front of the hide was a Kingfisher! 

Now I was in a quandary. If I opened the hide window the Kingfisher would be alarmed and without question would depart. I watched as it sat contentedly on the post looking down at the water below. Eventually in frustration at my predicament I tried taking some photos through the closed window but the glass was too dirty and the images were a waste of time. The Kingfisher meanwhile, made a dive into the water but was unsuccessful in catching whatever it had seen and flew up into a nearby alder tree and then shortly afterwards flew off entirely. I was more than a little downcast, wondering if it would ever come back. I opened the windows of the hide just in case the Kingfisher should return.

After ten minutes it attempted a return to the post but did not land, flying off instantly as it took fright  from a Woodpigeon that clumsily careered too near to it. 

I could hardly believe my bad luck but having at last seen a Kingfisher felt, at the very least, heartened and decided to devote some more time in the hide to see if it would return. Approaching footsteps came from outside the hide and the door opened. It was B. who had also decided to try his luck after missing out yesterday with Dai. I told him of the events just prior to his arrival and we chatted for a while but he decided it was a lost cause and left.

I was on my own once more and sat in the stillness of the hide looking out through the open windows  in anticipation of the Kingfisher's possible return. It was a slim chance and could go either way but it was surely worth waiting. An hour drifted by with little to see or hear. Then a shrill, unmistakeable whistle came from outside the hide and seconds later the Kingfisher landed on the post. Here at last, with the window open, was my chance to get a photo and I made the most of it. For ten magical moments the Kingfisher sat on top of the post, moving around to cover all angles of the water below. 

It was so close I could easily see it was a juvenile, distinguished from an adult by its dull brownish feet which in an adult would be sealing wax red, its fresh plumage and an all black bill. Its lack of success in fishing was also a sure indication of inexperience due to its young age.

It dived into the pool and again met with no success. I do not think there are fish in the shallow pool but there are certainly a lot of water beetles and this is surely what it was after. The Kingfisher made another dive into the water and failed once more. If ever a bird can look to be such a thing as embarrassed, this one did and it flew up onto a branch in the alder tree and perched there. A minute later it flew off, giving a peevish whistle as if in frustration.

I remained where I was as it looked like I might get some more Kingfisher action and was joined in the hide by another birder. I told him about the Kingfisher and advised that he would need to remain very still as any sudden movement on his part, when and if the Kingfisher returned, would precipitate its immediate departure.

Half an hour later the Kingfisher did return and the birder raised his bins but too rapidly and the sudden movement was seen by the Kingfisher which promptly fled! I was gracious and hid my frustration.There was no need to labour the point. We chatted and after another spell of inactivity the Kingfisher returned and this time with no sudden movements, all was well and it sat on the post untroubled. As before it made two unsuccessful dives and then departed as did the birder, happy with his views of the Kingfisher.

I sat for another half an hour but with no further sign of the Kingfisher, I too left the hide, glad to be out in the sunshine once more and happy enough with my Kingfisher encounter.