Community Environment

In the Margins | A new state bird is just what Washington needs

Posted on December 20th, 2023 By: Leland Smith

It’s the funniest thing. People often ask me, “Hey Lee … if you were governor of Washington, what’s the first thing you’d do?”

Actually, nobody has ever asked me that. But someday, should they? I’ll have an answer.

As governor, the first thing I would do: I would sack the Goldfinch as our state bird and replace him with the Belted Kingfisher.

This is not a beatdown on the Goldfinch. He’s a fine bird who has served our state since 1951 with nobility and bright yellow charisma.

The Belted Kingfisher? Here’s a bird that would set our state apart while celebrating our rugged nature, pragmatism, respect for beauty and reverence for good fresh fish.

The Belted Kingfisher

Go ahead. Try this. Pull up to any stranger and start talking about birds. Out of the blue, tell a story about something funny you saw this morning at the feeder, perched on a light pole, or hovering over the water. One person out of 10 will quickly run off, but the other nine will catch your vibe and share a story equally interesting … to them.

The Belted Kingfisher inspires a lot of tales, trust me.

A female Belted Kingfisher. Photo by Michael l. Baird/Wikipedia Creative Commons License

Don’t run off.

Some stories:

“When I spend the night on my boat, this Kingfisher wakes me up every morning with his call. He’s been up, finished his breakfast and put away the dishes before I even make coffee.”

“I’ve seen Kingfishers hover over a school of fish for minutes at a time, waiting for the perfect moment to dive way down deep. And they always come up with a fish.”

“Sometimes when I drive beside the water, a Kingfisher will fly right beside me at the same speed. If feels like he’s just showing off.”

The Goldfinch?

“He’s pretty … and he likes seeds.”

The Kingfisher call

Though he’s often the toast of the storytelling party, the Kingfisher is humble as evidenced by his call, best described as a simple, steady one-note rattle, often when he’s on the wing from one perch to another. It ain’t no party, it ain’t no disco, it ain’t no foolin’ around. Leave that jazzy three-octave stuff to Robin Redbreast. Leave the stadium-sound-effect shriek of terror to Mr. Red-Tail Hawk. Leave the comedic mimicry to the Steller’s Jay. (Actually, that’s pretty cool how the Steller’s Jay can imitate squirrels and other birds. I’ve heard them mimic Flickers, Redtails and even take a whack at doing a Bald Eagle. It’s a bad impersonation. But hey! He’s trying.)

The Kingfisher doesn’t have a song, he has a single-note, 16th beat drum roll, steady as a rock. He’s no showboat. He doesn’t have to be. The Belted Kingfisher is the Charlie Watt of birds. Charlie Watt? The Rolling Stones. People would often ask, “Why doesn’t Charlie ever take a drum solo?” Answer: Charlie didn’t need to. Charlie was that good.

The Goldfinch? He was voted into office by our state’s elementary school children and rubber-stamped by our Legislature in 1951. He’s also the state bird of Iowa and New Jersey. Sure … he’s pretty. And you know summer has arrived with that electric-yellow plumage, cute delicate nose and sweet little voice.

You don’t see his canary-yellow contour the rest of the year, but the good folks at Wildbirds Unlimited (I do my research) set me straight. I thought he was a delicate snowbird, gone in the winter. But they assured me he’s not. As the staff at Wildbirds Unlimited will attest, the Goldfinch is here year-round. He just changes wardrobe.

A male Belted Kingfisher. Photo by MarshBunny/Wikipedia Creative Commons License

A year-round king

My state bird would have one suit for all seasons. Sunshine, snow, pelting rain, wind … he can handle it. Give me a dark, 39-degree November day with a sideways wind that would sink the Edmund Fitzgerald. Mr. Kingfisher? He’s out fishing. You can see him perched on a limb over a river or bay, face into the wind with a beak that could snap open an Olympia stubby … should you ask him to do so.

He’s really good at fishing, hence the name, and just fun to watch. He perches patiently on a wire or tree limb until he spies a school of fish. Then he has the ability to hover 30 feet over his prey. When it’s time to pounce, he tucks his wings in and dives like Barney Cipriani (Look him up, kids. Youtube is amazing) into the icy water before emerging with his thrashing dinner entre that he gulps down like Joey Chestnut eating spicy wings.

Somewhere under a protected forest canopy, Mr. Goldfinch is eating seeds.

Not that Kingfish

We love our birds. Maybe that’s why so many sports teams identify with birds as mascots: Eagles, Hawks, Falcons, Ravens, Seahawks (an osprey), Cardinals, Orioles. Why isn’t there a college or pro sports team called the “Kingfishers?” My only guess is long, long ago, the name “Kingfish” got junked-up by former Louisiana strongman Huey “The Kingfish” Long. Back in the ’30s, Huey walked off with the trophy (and lots of other stuff) for “Most Corrupt Politician in American History.” Bummer of a birthmark, Hal.

Nevertheless, the Kingfisher is striking with his tungsten blue-gray body, white neck band and Mohawk-style crown. Even better, the female looks nearly identical. Gender-neutral plumage. A bird for our times. I like that. Starting with that stout black beak, look how the Kingfisher contours back into a steel-blue form that would make a ’74 Challenger—black vinyl roof, slotted mags, 245 horsepower — chartreuse with envy.

The Belted Kingfisher is a muscle car from Detroit’s glory days.

The Goldfinch? A ’74 Pinto … with an exploding gas tank.

No Goldfinch can match this

For the sake of history, the Goldfinch was named our state bird 72 years ago following a statewide elementary school poll. I get it and I don’t necessarily want to kneecap Birdland’s founding fathers (and mothers). So I reached out to one voting member from that era, my sister, who attended elementary school in Ryderwood, Cowlitz County, in 1951. It’s always polite to ask first before you just go ahead and do something, unless you’re … like … the governor.

So, Big-Sister Diane, You voted back in the day … OK with you if we switch out state birds? Goldfinch to Kingfisher?

“This one time we were on our boat and this Kingfisher was hovering for the longest time only about 50 feet away. Then he dove and came up with this big fish, almost as big as him. He flew over to a piling and sat there for the longest time bashing that fish’s head on the wood before he managed to swallow it whole, head first.”

Your move, Mr. Goldfinch.

In closing, I’ve learned it often helps if I quote some smart guy from the past to accent the key point and make it look like I’ve done some research. Cue Oscar Wilde.

“The one duty we have to history is to rewrite it.”

Thanks Oscar. Goldfinch out. Kingfisher in. That’s what I’d do if I were governor.

Leland Smith

A 39-year resident of Gig Harbor, Leland Smith enjoyed a 15 year career in media, including a 10-year shift as sports editor/photographer for The Peninsula Gateway. That was followed by a 25 year stint as a teacher, baseball coach and radio station manager for KGHP-FM and Peninsula High School. Smith will occasionally pinch-hit for Chris Phillips as author of the monthly In the Margins column.