Kingfisher

Yesterday afternoon I found a kingfisher hopping around at the back of the cottage. Demelza was extremely interested but every time she went to pounce on it the creature jabbed its long beak at her. Unfortunately it didn't recognise someone who wanted only to help so I was bitten a few times before I donned gardening gloves and finally managed to pick it up. The kingfisher gripped onto my left hand while I came inside and tried to ring my friend John, fount of wisdom on all subjects to do with nature and farming. Unfortunately he was outside but Marg promised she'd get him to call once he finishing tinkering with his rover.

I made up a little box with a towel and took the bird into the Widdly Room (the bright yellow storage room at the end of the cottage which is a repository for empty boxes and spinning fleeces) as this was quiet and sunny. After John rang and told me try it on some chicken mince I mixed up a mushy worm of meat with water and tried to get some down its beak with little success. When I checked on it later in the day it had perched on the edge of the box and was looking around with some interest (I managed to get a couple of photographs while it was doing this).

Before heading to bed at 9pm I checked on it but it had disappeared. After some frantic searching I found it had hidden itself behind a canvas board leaning against a basket. As kingfishers apparently burrow into river banks I didn't feel this was strange and left it alone.

This morning it had died. Not a shock as it obviously had some severe injury which had prevented it flying. I know people feel kingfishers are bad luck and bring death into the house but I couldn't help marvel at the sheer beauty of this wild creature. As an aside as I write this there was an advertisement on the radio for an eatery called the Kingfisher Cafe....