Heaps of strange events in Nature go unexplained. Some say 'tis because the wonderful old Indian story tellers who knew many wood secrets are gone. Long ago the little Indian children loved to squat beside some smouldering lodge fire and listen to these tales—these hidden secrets told of their little brothers of the wood. They were told how Moo-wee-suk, the racoon, always wore five rings about his plumy tail, why the red-winged blackbird is branded with two spots of living fire on its jetty wings, why the woodpecker carries a bright splash of fresh blood upon his crest, and also why the badger is always a kind of joke, just because of his war-paint markings. Some tales remain untold and one of them is how Kos-ko-menos, the great kingfisher, won his beautiful blue belt.
Dee-dee-askh, the blue jay, had wintered in the deep pine forests instead of flying south one autumn. Wild berries had been plentiful that year and the greedy jay hated to leave behind such good feasting, so he remained behind the migrating birds. He was glad though when the long, cold months of "The Snow Shoes" passed, for he was tired of feeding upon pine-cone seeds, or anything which he could pick up in the forest. The snow had begun to melt away from the south sides of the hills and the mountain brooks roared tremendously, breaking free from their strong ice prisons, making pleasant music through the valleys and in the rocky passes of the mountains.
The crows were colonising, coming out from their retreats in the thick pine coverts, where they had huddled all winter to keep from freezing. They cawed hoarsely to each other. The jay screamed loudly, trying to drown their cries and break up their council. Dee-dee-askh is not popular with the wood people, for he has always had the bad reputation of being a thief. He loves to watch smaller birds at their nest building and rob them of their eggs or the very young birds; no wonder he is unpopular.
Dee-dee-askh filled the woods with his harsh, strident screams and swooped down the valley, following Otter Creek until he reached a spot where it broadens. One side is a steep bank, and across towers the mountain, green with thick spruces to its summit. This forest was where the jay and his mate decided to build their nest. Year after year they had built there and Dee-dee-askh had managed to rid himself of very near neighbours, fighting them savagely if they intruded upon his privacy, so remained a sort of monarch. He loved to conceal himself in some thick bush and frighten more timid birds, or little furry things.
"Kee-oo, Kee-oo," would scream the jay, imitating to perfection the harsh scream of a hawk; then how he would chuckle to himself to see the frightened things scurry, or fly off to hide themselves in the thick woods.
One day Kos-ko-menos himself, King of all the kingfisher tribes, came journeying down the creek; he was looking for a new building site, for, as it happened, the old fishing pool where he had lived the season before was too shallow, owing to the drought. So the fish had all gone up-stream seeking deeper pools. It was important that the kingfisher should build near good fishing, because soon there would be young birds to feed.
Taking six little flapping short flights, then a glide, on came Kos-ko-menos, followed closely by his smaller mate. His beautiful crimson eyes searched up and down the creek as he flew, trying to decide upon the best building site. But when he came to the clay bank, he knew he need search no further; nothing could be better. Without even waiting to rest themselves, Kos-ko-menos and his mate soon began to make the dirt fly in all directions as they excavated deeply for their new home. Round and smooth was their doorway, just large enough to admit one kingfisher at a time. About half-way up the side of the bank it was placed, and ran fully six feet, straight into the clay. Into a little hollow at the very end they threw a few fish bones and loose leaves, then the beautiful eggs were laid, which in time would become three goggle-eyed, frowsy-headed little kingfishers, very ugly, but handsome to their parents, of course.
Kos-ko-menos darted back and forth, flashing like a great blue jewel, as he took up his sentinel-like position upon a stake in the water, where he could peer straight down into the deep water for fish. He preened his feathers, shaking out the clinging clay, and gave loud screams, he felt so happy about the nest.
"Kerrr-ik-r-r-r," he screamed triumphantly, making a terrific sound, just exactly like that of a harsh, wooden toy rattle, only louder, if possible. The very mountains rang with his cry. Then all the furry tribes knew for certain that Kos-ko-menos had come to live in that spot. Many of them disliked the idea very much; they dreaded his harsh scream which made the more timid jump and disturbed their babies, it was such a horrid cry. The kingfisher has always been considered a kind of outcast among other birds. They imagine that he is uncanny; that is, because of his wonderful skill at fishing, and because he can dart into the water quickly and stay under a long time, so they think perhaps he is himself more of a fish than a bird. They cannot understand why he does not walk properly, but has a way of waddling which is very funny because his legs are very short and placed far back upon his body. His great bushy crest makes him appear almost top-heavy and his appearance is ungainly. I think, however, that the real reason why he is shunned by some birds and shabbily treated, is because they are, secretly in their hearts, jealous of the beautiful feathers which Kos-ko-menos wears, because, no matter how homely his body may be, it is beautifully clothed. Upon the top of his head he wears a long, high crest of rich, dark green, which colour extends down his neck, and each little feather is flecked with spots of blue of a wonderful hue. Violet and blue is his coat, his tail a deep indigo blue. Over each crimson eye and just beneath it, is a cunning dot of black. He wears a thick, feathered waistcoat of yellowish-white, and his beak is jet black.
Once more Kos-ko-menos screamed his wooden-rattle cry. Then like a flash he darted straight into the deepest part of the pool, and before the spray had fallen he was out again with a fine, wriggling fish. As he was about to kill the fish upon a near-............