50 Little Birds

The canoe slipped beneath the green canopy of trees bridging the river.  Tom, sitting in the bow, watched the water’s surface as it slid by.  Though we weren’t fishing his mind was lost in fly-fishing thoughts. His mind was pondering the three questions on every fly fisherman’s mind.  What flies are emerging?  What fly do I cast?  What fish will rise and strike?
I sat in the stern as we let the boat drift down river.  Neither raised a paddle.  We were lost in our thoughts.
My artist mind was taking in the dappled green and gold flecks of light that filtered through the trees to strike the river.  I saw saw them as dashes of watercolors on paper or lines in a woodcut.
We were lost in the silence — the river silence that is never silent.  There are always sounds — the chit of birds in the scrub, the buzz of a dragonfly, the babble of the river and the hushed breeze in the treetops.
Kee kee kee kee kee kee kee!
A kingfisher explodes from the thick trees on our left.

Kee kee kee kee kee kee kee!

The rattle of the kingfisher becomes more alarmed as a Cooper’s hawk blasts into the dappled river light in close pursuit or its prey.

Kee kee kee kee kee kee kee!

The kingfisher continues across the river’s surface zigging and zagging.

I’ve seen this scene unfold a dozen times — a raptor in pursuit of its prey — and I found the Kingfisher’s actions confusing.  Pursued prey tries to become invisible — it freezes of dives into heavy cover.  The kingfisher seems to seek open airspace and I soon learned why.

Kee kee kee kee kee kee kee!

The kingfisher continues it’s evasive course back and forth across the river.  The hawk closes in.  Talons out it drops on its prey and I know it is all over.

Plunk!  The kingfisher disappears!  The hawk rises, talons empty and (pardon a bit of personification) looks confused.

Kee kee kee kee kee kee kee!

The kingfisher emerges form the river flying and resumes its erratic pattern across the water’s surface.

The hawk turns and dives — talons out.

Plunk! The hawk rises again with empty talons.

Kee kee kee kee kee kee kee!

The scene is repeated one last time.  The hawk is finished with this game and turns and flies back through the trees to the fields beyond — perhaps to find a more cooperative prey.

The kingfisher flies upward and lights on a bare branch.  From this perch it can it begins to search below the river’s surface for its own prey.

This scene unfolds in just a minute or two the deadly dance is over.

The river silence again enveloped us.  The silence that is never silent.  The chit of birds in the scrub. The buzz of a dragonfly. The babble of the river and the hushed breeze in the treetops.

This kingfisher carving is available at my Etsy Store.