Stalking the Kingfisher, Part 3

The Kingfisher is a hunter, and that's the way I finally want to record its story.

Kingfisher in Folly Cove

Occasionally it ventures down to the shoreline on the lookout for shallow water prey.

Subduing and swallowing a captured minnow

A couple of times I've been able to capture it digesting a fish after a successful foray in the quarry. Obtaining legible live action photos of its plunge to the water has been a special challenge. 

Kingfisher diving

Back in 2016 I had my first and best encounter with a Kingfisher's predatory prowess.

Disappearing under water

A Kingfisher parent seemed to be giving fishing lessons to a youngster, in a not impossibly distant corner of the quarry.

Rising to its perch

At the time I all had was a Sony travel camera. It was a credible tool for recording the highlights of gypsy excursions around the Park but lacked the optical resolution for close contact with this shy bird.

The shrieking Devil Bird

Over the next few years I persisted in a quixotic mission for good photos of it fishing.

A pretty good view

Then one day I came upon my quarry conspicuously perched.

The Kingfisher diving

 This time I had a good camera, a tripod, and quick reactions.

The successful hunt

The Kingfisher and I each had the moment we'd been waiting for.

With mindful practice I've been able to soften my attitude to see it as a fascinating, wary bird rather than as a diabolical adversary--usually. But just when I think I've mastered equanimity I meet frustration once again. The Kingfisher and I have an ongoing psychic destiny.