There is a small section of the river park near us that has seen Sacred Kingfishers regularly arriving each season to raise the next generation of their young.
On and off over about 10 years we’ve had the chance photograph them on occassions.
They tend to arrive around early October, and the forest begins to ring with their Pe, Pe, Pe, Pe calls. Helpful because if they can be heard, they must be in there somewhere.
On some years there may be 4 or 5 pairs at work along a couple of kilometre stretch of the park. The far side of the river is closed off to mere mortal access, so we might only get a glimpse of them if they set up on that side.
We began looking early in the month, and eventually disovered two possible territories. They soon busied themselves with feeding, and preening and searching for a nesting location. The ones that visit here don’t build into the river bank, but chose the trees. Some of the river gums are quite old and have good nesting opportunities.
For the early arrivals.
Unfortunately, this season, the Lorikeets, Mynahs and Red-rumped parrots had all claimed the best spots.
The Kingfishers will often create a new hole in a suitable tree to gain access to the open rotten area of the trees. But it’s hard work.
November ran on, and still they hadn’t settled, by mid-December we were beginning to think they might have missed the opportunity.
The pair were both still calling, and feeding, and wrestling with various hole inhabitants, and it was looking like there was little space left for the pair. Their relatives further down the river had already settled in and nesting was in progress.
The birds seemed to favour a number of the older trees, and did seem to have designs on one hole in particular, but the following day we’d find them elsewhere at work on another.
With the Pe, Pe, Pe, Pe still ringing across the forest, the curtain comes down on the first act.
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Birds as Poetry —— Just because I WANDER doesn't mean I'm LOST 