Kingfishers, despite their calculated gaze and stock-still demeanour broken only by flashes of short flights, seem cheerful… maybe ‘tis the kaleidoscopic plumage that bedazzles the eye or the disproportionately large beak, more often than not they tend to enamour the observer… while raptors spend hours riding thermals and weaving circle after circle in the sky looking for prey, kingfishers prefer to stand and deliver, making light of the prey in short manoeuvres… they don’t even bother to sing, these birds, making do with whatever noises they can conjure to get the point through… they hardly even bother walking for that matter too, not that it’d be easy with that huge head…

It was ten in the morning by the time we reached the jetty at Vengurla… as expected, save a few egrets and cormorants lining the banks and Brahminy kites gliding above, there was little avifaunal activity… as we disembarked from a short boat ride, a common kingfisher came inquiring, probably expecting piscine ladings… perching on a wooden mooring post, ‘twas disappointed almost instantly but waited a while before flying off to a tin shed to take one last look around the human constructs for an easy morsel, and finding none, disappeared into the safety of the mangroves… ‘twas an interesting sight, the brightly coloured boats providing as colourful a bokeh as the bird itself…

There’s a no-nonsense approach to a kingfisher’s way – a deep stare, (sometimes) a quick hover and flawless dive – it’s venerated and looked upon as a bad omen across cultures in equal measures… a hunter that guffaws at the suggestion of a camouflage, aloof to the idea of its own predation … one of those small birds that aren’t afraid to punch above their weight when provoked… yet kingfishers, for the most part are meditators, preferring contemplation over cacophony…

Musings on a common kingfisher, Sindhudurg, Maharashtra