Kingfishers
- By Susan Tweit
- Published 01/9/2003
- Outdoors
- Unrated
Susan Tweit
Susan J. Tweit is a scientist who evolved into an award-winning writer and radio commentator. She is the author of five books for adults, including Barren, Wild, & Worthless: Living in the Chihuahuan Desert, personal stories about the history and natural history of Southern New Mexico, The Great Southwest Nature Factbook, a browser's guide to nature in the Southwest, from A to Z, and Seasons in the Desert: A Naturalist's Notebook, from Chronicle books. She has also written two children's books, Meet the Wild Southwest: Land of Hoodoos & Gila Monsters (Alaska Northwest Books) and City Foxes, a picture book which was named one of the Outstanding Science Books for Children for 1998.
Her "Wild Lives" radio commentaries are heard three times weekly on KRWG-FM, Southern New Mexico public radio, and her columns run in the Las Cruces Sun News. Susan's essays and stories have appeared in Harrowsmith Country Life, New Mexico, Sierra, Cricket, Bloomsbury Review, and other magazines. She is the co-founder of Las Cruces' wildly popular - and fun - Border Book Festival. She is currently living in Colorado with her husband, Richard Cabe, and dog, Perdida Imelda.
Susan is a popular public speaker and leader of workshops. Her stories of our natural and human history have captivated a wide variety of audiences, including school classes, workshops, banquets, and professional meetings. As Bloomsbury Review put it, she brings the precision of a scientist and the passion of a poet, and is able to refocus readers' vision and ignite their imaginations.
Susan has a new web site! She invites you to come visit. Her books are available there, at local bookstores, or on-line through http://BarnesandNoble.com and http://Amazon.com (search by author for Susan Tweit).
The clattering call, which sounds like a loud wooden rattle, and the unique silhouette gave away the bird's identity: a belted kingfisher, named for its banded chest and its fish-catching skills. Its scientific name, Ceryle alcyon, commemorates the Greek goddess Halcyone, who threw herself into the sea in grief for her drowned husband; the gods took pity on the couple and turned them into kingfishers. (Ceryle comes from the Greek for "king of the fishes.")
Belted kingfishers' head and bill are proportionately larger than their small feet and short tail, making them appear top-heavy when perched. But their ungainly physique belies a graceful abilty to hover and dive. Living along shallow water from seacoasts to creeks, ponds, lakes and small rivers, belted kinfishers fish for their meals. They spot their prey - mainly small fish, but also bullfrog tadpoles, crabs, crayfish, and mussels - either from a perch or as they hover over the water. (Kingfishers also sometimes hunt over
Once a kingfisher spots a toothsome aquatic morsel, it dives directly into the water, seizes the fish in its powerful bill, then pushes itself to the surface with its short, strong wings, and flies back to its perch. There the kingfisher stuns the fish by whacking it on the perch, tosses the fish into the air and swallows it whole, headfirst. This latter behavior is not a display of bad manners; rather, it is an adaptation to birds' lack of teeth. After kingfishers digest their meal, they spit out the undigestable parts - such as fins, scales, and bones - in a pellet, like hawks and owls.
Strongly territorial, kingfishers are solitary except in breeding season - April to May in the southern Southwest - when they pair up to dig a 3- to 6-foot-long horizontal nest burrow in a bank near water. The partners alternate excavating, digging with their stout bills, and pushing out dirt with their feet; depending on how clayey the soil is, burrow construction requires from three days to three weeks. Incubating the four to six eggs and raising their brood takes another two months.
Although belted kingfishers live in the southern Southwest year-round, they need permanent water. Our irrigation ditch - a seasonal stream, running only from April to October - boasts no such residents. Only in spring and fall do we hear the occasional rattling call, or see a plummeting dive as a visiting "king of fishers" passes through on its way to more promising waters.
