A Blue Streak in the Grey

Few birds in Britain repay patience like the kingfisher. You will rarely get a long look on your first attempt. More often you will hear a thin, piercing whistle, catch a smear of electric blue travelling fast and low over the water, and then find yourself standing alone in the silence again, wondering whether you imagined it. That is the kingfisher's trick: it gives you just enough to keep you coming back.

Our bird is Alcedo atthis, and it is far more widespread than most people assume. Slow rivers, canals, brooks, flooded gravel pits, even the tidal reaches near the coast — anywhere with clear water, fish of a size it can swallow, and a bank or branch to hunt from will do. Learn to read that habitat and the bird stops being a lottery and starts being a likelihood.

Reading a River for Kingfishers

Kingfishers are ambush hunters, not chasers. They need shallow, clear water where small fish are visible and a low perch from which to drop on them. On a slow river, look for:

• Overhanging branches a metre or two above the surface, especially alder, willow and hawthorn, with a clear drop below.
• Bends, eddies and riffles where the current concentrates small fish and gives the bird a reliable larder.
• Vertical sandy or earthy banks, often where a river has undercut a tree root. These are nesting sites, and the bird will return to them year after year.
• Quiet backwaters and side channels that are out of the main flow and hold fry through winter.
• Fallen trees and exposed roots that offer a perch with a clean line of sight.

A straight, dredged, uniform stretch of river with mown banks and no overhanging cover is poor habitat. If you can find a section the landowner has left a little ragged — alders dipping into the water, nettles on the bank, a fallen branch half-submerged — you have found a kingfisher river.

The Right Hour and the Right Season

Dawn is the great hour. In summer, be in position an hour before sunrise, when the light is soft and few people are about. The bird is hungry after the night and will hunt hard for the first two hours or so. Evening is a reasonable second choice, particularly in late summer and autumn, when feeding continues close to dusk.

Midday in high summer is largely wasted; kingfishers often loaf in shade and the glare on the water makes spotting hard. The seasons shift things too:

• March to July is the breeding season, with two or sometimes three broods. Birds are territorial, vocal and busy, and you may see them carrying fish towards a nest bank.
• August and September brings newly fledged juveniles, which are duller and greener, with dark tips to the bill. They are naive and often give better views.
• Late autumn and winter is when birds disperse and can turn up on the most unlikely small brook or even on the coast. In a hard frost, head for the lower reaches and tidal creeks, where the water stays ice-free.

Fieldcraft: How to Disappear

Kingfishers have excellent vision and a low tolerance for movement. The single biggest improvement most people can make is to stop walking and stand still in the right place. Beyond that:

• Dress to blend — olive, brown, grey. No bright jackets, no white trainers, no rustling waterproofs if you can help it.
• Use a screen. A hedge, a bush, a tussock of sedge or a hide all break up your outline. Sit low, ideally with your back against something.
• Keep the sun behind you. Side or backlighting gives a better chance of the colours reading properly; looking into the light just gives you a silhouette.
• Move in slow, deliberate stages and pause often. Sudden arm movements send birds downstream instantly.
• Stay off the skyline. A bird watching a bank will see you silhouetted against the sky long before it sees your face.
• Binoculars of 8x42 are ideal — bright enough at dawn, wide enough not to lose a fast-moving bird.

Listen First, Look Second

The classic sighting is aural. The call is a short, very high, sharp whistle — often written as "cheee" or "tseee" — frequently given twice in quick succession. It is easy to mistake for a squeaky gate or a bicycle brake, but once you have it learned, it is unmistakable. It is usually heard while the bird is still in flight, giving you a second or two to locate the direction.

The flight is diagnostic too: fast, arrow-straight and very low, just above the water or the bank. The wings whirr and the blue flash on the back is bright in sunlight, but in shade, look for the rusty orange underparts and the white patch on the neck as the bird turns. If it lands, it will usually sit upright on a low perch, bobbing its head and flicking its tail.

Learn to separate the call from the chattering of a grey wagtail, the sharp tick of a dipper, or the harsh scolding of a jay. Experienced river watchers often pick up a kingfisher because they noticed the sudden, offended departure of a moorhen or a mallard — everything else reacts before you do.

Stillness, and What Comes Next

The rewards of slowing down are not only kingfishers. Sit concealed beside a slow river for an hour at dawn and the countryside will come to you: a heron stalking the shallows, a water vole cutting across a channel, banded demoiselles on the alder leaves, otters if you are very lucky. Teach yourself to stay put for twenty minutes after the last bird has gone, because that is often when the kingfisher returns.

If you do find a nest bank, keep your distance, keep your dog on the lead and do not linger. A disturbed pair can desert a brood, and the law protects the birds, their nests and their eggs. Watch, admire, and leave them to it. The blue streak will be back along the same stretch tomorrow, and if you have learnt the water and stilled your feet, you may be waiting in exactly the right place.