Kingfisher Dawn

A flash of bright cerulean blue, a sliver of orange, a dart of wings, all along the other side of the riverbank. By a small cliff, under the verdant haze of the overhanging trees, there were these tiny explosions of colour and speed.

“Robs, still,” I whispered, “Very quiet now, down”. My heart sounded incredibly loud as my Lurcher, Robbie, and I stayed stock still, I, having dropped to a crouching position amongst the grasses weaving along the bank. It was very early in the morning, and we were unlikely to be disturbed. The mist was rising from the little river and the sky was clear, promising a bright day; the rising sun slanting through the willows and turning the river water to bright pools of light being dashed into thousands of liquid diamonds against the rock bed.

Suddenly, darting across the little sparkling waters came the blue and orange bird with its distinctive yellow beak and alighted on a willow branch, no more than six feet from us. The Kingfisher cocked a sideways glance at us, before settling his gaze to the little rippling current below his branch, where the green leaves grazed the water.

Had we been still before, we now held our breath, and turned our gaze in the same direction toward the water though sneakily, in my case, casting a shifty glance to my right to where the stunning bird still sat motionless on the slender branch. It was like companionship…almost as if we were being let into this avian paradise. The whole world took on a translucency and brightness, whether through sheer exultation or surprise, I shall never know. I do not remember how long we three remained in what felt like silent communion in the early dawn light. Without warning, the Kingfisher dived and then was gone.

Almost a sense of bereavement assailed me, as if the curtain to another world had been abruptly shut. We moved gently off to our normal meandering, but swift walk, I for one wondering at the miracle that seemed to have taken place.

When I recounted the miraculous encounter to a fellow walker, he exclaimed:

“What price St. Francis?”