Wild royalty needs no crown

Long before I saw the bird, I heard it. A hard, dry rattle came echoing down the shoreline, sounding like someone shaking a metal can filled with pebbles. Then I saw it, a large bird, slightly larger than the American Robin. The bird landed on a dead branch leaning over the lake and raised its long shaggy crest on its head as it called once again. It was a Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon).

The Belted Kingfisher is one of those birds that is often heard before it is seen. In late summer, it is one of more common bird sounds you will hear. Once you learn their call, it is difficult to forget. 

Male and female Belted Kingfishers look similar. They have a slate, blue-gray head and back along with a narrow band across a white chest. In the bird world, it is the male that is usually more colorful than the females, but in the case of the Belted Kingfisher, this rule is reversed. The female has a rusty, chestnut band across the belly and along the flanks that the male lacks. This is a good reminder that nature rarely feels obligated to follow the rules we humans make up for them.

The Kingfisher has a prominent, blue-gray crest on top of its head that often looks like it has a double-point. Many describe the crest as “shaggy,” while others describe it as a crown fit for a king. The feathers are voluntarily raised and lowered to match the emotional state of the bird. 

From its perch, the kingfisher tipped forward and stared into the water. Its head bobbed once, then again, as if measuring distance through the water’s surface. Suddenly, it launched, hovered for a heartbeat, and then folded its wings and plunged headfirst into the water. The Kingfisher is one of the few birds that will completely submerge underwater when hunting for fish. A split second later, the bird popped to the surface and took flight back to the branch with a small fish held crosswise in its bill.

A kingfisher does not simply swallow the fish. It usually strikes the prey against the perch several times, stunning it and then turning the fish so it can be swallowed headfirst. Fish make up the majority of its diet, but crayfish, frogs, tadpoles, and other aquatic creatures may also be taken. 

As dramatic as its fishing technique may be, the kingfisher’s home life is even more surprising. It does not build a cup nest in a tree. Instead, a pair will excavate a tunnel into a steep earthen bank, often in a riverbank and sometimes in a gravel pit, or road cut. The tunnel commonly slopes upward and may extend from one to eight feet deep before ending in a small round nesting chamber. The length of the tunnel rises slightly, which stops rainwater from running into the chamber.

Imagine digging a hallway many times the length of your own body using just your face and your feet to remove the dirt. Both adults take part, striking and scraping at the soil, then shuffling backward to kick loose dirt from the entrance. Their toes are well suited for the job. Two of their four toes are fused together, to form a tiny shovel or scraper to move the dirt. 

The female lays four to six white eggs, and both parents share incubation and feeding duties. Raising a tunnel full of hungry young demands a steady supply of fish. The adults fly back and forth between water and the burrow, arriving with prey held tightly in the bill. Deep underground, the young wait in darkness for the next meal.

Young kingfishers possess remarkably acidic stomachs that allow them to digest fish bones, scales, and hard shells. As they mature, their digestion changes and they begin coughing up compact pellets of indigestible material, much like owls and hawks. 

Across much of the Northland, winter pushes Kingfishers out in autumn. A few individuals may remain wherever open water and food can be found, while all others migrate. 

The Kingfisher on the branch swallowed its fish, then shook water droplets from its crest and settled again. For several minutes, it looked over the lake with complete concentration. I was expecting it to dive once again into the water, but instead, it took flight and moved down the shoreline out of my sight. 

Encounters with the Belted Kingfisher are why I enjoy living on a lake. However, they are a particularly skittish bird that rarely hangs around if they see people. I find it very challenging to capture pictures of this stunning bird.  For me, the Belted Kingfisher reminds us that wild royalty needs no crown - only clean water, an earthen bank, and enough room to catch fish. Until next time…

Stan Tekiela is an author / naturalist and wildlife photographer who travels extensively to study and capture images and video of wildlife. He can be followed on www.facebook.com and www.instagram.com. He can be contacted via his website at www.naturesmart.com.