Let’s hear a kingfisher’s bird call.
Kingfisher
Perched, looking for a fish.
“ Where the river winds through its green retreat,
Smiling, rejoicing on its way,
Whose ripples and rifles ever beat
The old tree-roots and boulders gray;
Where o’er the sedges’ shallows and sands
The cat-tail tufts and river reeds,
At whose edge the patient angler stands,
The kingfisher flies and feeds.
Perch’d on a bending, wither’d spray
That leans o’er the water’s flow,
He watches intently for the prey
That swims in the stream below.”