for young kingfisher all out of Cheokhes. He plunged headlong
down the bank, the bird swooping after him with a rattling alarm
that brought another kingfisher in a twinkling. The mink dived,
but it was useless to attempt escape in that way; the keen eyes
above followed his flight perfectly. When he came to the surface,
twenty feet away, both birds were over him and dropped like
plummets on his head. So they drove him down stream and out of
sight.

Years afterward I solved the second problem suggested by the
kingfisher's den, when I had the good fortune, one day, to watch
a pair beginning their tunneling. All who have ever watched the
bird have, no doubt, noticed his wonderful ability to stop short
in swift flight and hold himself poised in midair for an
indefinite time, while watching the movements of a minnow
beneath. They make use of this ability in beginning their nest
on a bank so steep as to afford no foothold.

As I watched the pair referred to, first one then the other would
hover before the point selected, as a hummingbird balances for a
moment at the door of a trumpet flower to be sure that no one is
watching ere he goes in, then drive his beak with rapid plunges
into the bank, sending down a continuous shower of clay to the
river below. When tired he rested on a watch-stub, while his mate
made a battering-ram of herself and kept up the work. In a
remarkably short time they had a foothold and proceeded to dig
themselves in out of sight.

Kingfisher's tunnel is so narrow that he cannot turn around in
it. His straight, strong bill loosens the earth; his tiny feet