A thump on the kitchen garden door heralded a surprise visitor. To my horror, on the patio lay the prone body of a kingfisher, apparently dead. I picked it up and hoping against hope that it was only stunned, replaced it. To my relief, within minutes it was on its feet. It was not for another 20 minutes or so before I approached it again, at which the tiny bird took off with its distinctive flight pattern.
This my second encounter with a live kingfisher at close hand, (see my blog last August). Welcome though a kingfisher is in our garden, though not under these circumstances, I wonder what brings this iconic river bird so near to the house. The Nenagh river after all is some 100 metres away.