It was that blue. The first time Mirjam de Vroomen (58) and her husband Klaas Pie (66) saw the bright blue back of a kingfisher, they were sold. That was fifteen years ago, in the Oostvaardersplassen. Now it is their soul and bliss: they manage a bird hide in the bustling environment of Amsterdam-Zuidoost on behalf of a nature association for photographers who, like them, want to see and capture kingfishers up close.
Logical: the kingfisher – sometimes you can see it skim like lightning over a pond – is the jewel in Mother Nature’s jewelry box. Those blue wings with a turquoise dorsal stripe, that orange breast, that fast wing beat with which it flashes over the water: although a bird that is thoroughly indigenous, every unexpected encounter remains a tropical surprise for the connoisseur.
The management of the hut is ‘half a job’ during the ‘kingfisher season’ (from April to the end of August). In addition, De Vroomen works as a sociotherapist, Pie in ICT. They are happy to spare that time and energy for the kingfisher. In exchange for their labour, De Vroomen and Pie – themselves dressed in kingfisher blue – get full access to the hut, first rank. With plenty of opportunity to shoot photos.
Secret hideout
We are not allowed to mention the exact location; too many snoopers would disturb the kingfishers. The site is deliberately concealed on the site observation.nl. Photographers know how to find information about the rental of the place. There are plenty of people who are interested: about five hundred photographers are happy to be allowed to take a seat in the hut, on the edge of a pond. There are three chairs ready for the three peepholes, for which curtains hang with coarse holes in them. This gives the photographers a view of the landscaped breeding wall on the steep bank, a few meters from the hut, without scaring the birds. In that wooden wall are five holes the size of a tennis ball – the entrance to tunnels that the kingfishers dig themselves to breed and raise their young.
‘If you can come today, we’ll probably see youngsters fledge’, De Vroomen had said. Unfortunately, we were unable to attend, the appointment takes place two days later. One day after all the stuff has left the nest.
Mixed news: the kingfisher immediately expels its fledgling young from its birthplace, so there’s a small chance we’ll see it today. But the bird does so and immediately starts another laying in another hole. So that with a bit of luck we could catch a glimpse of the birds that alternate when breeding.
‘He yells that he is going out for a while’
And so, on a warm day with mint water, we sit in the wooden hut, talking about the kingfisher, staring incessantly through the curtains at the nesting wall and the protruding branches on which a kingfisher could perch at any moment.
It doesn’t hit every year, but fate favors this place. That soon becomes apparent: while De Vroomen and Pie are talking, the conversation suddenly stops. “There it is!” Pie points to the branch right in front of the hut. Indeed: a kingfisher, a meter and a half away, clearly oblivious to his audience holding their breath behind the curtains.
‘A male’, De Vroomen sees from the completely black bill (females have an orange lower bill). She translates his short, shrill beep: “He’s yelling to let you know he’s getting out now. Then the female will come to change.’
Our happiness lasts ten, fifteen seconds. Then the bird flies away, and there is excitement and liberating laughter in the hide.
Pairing at lightning speed
The two never tire of that brightly colored bird. De Vroomen: ‘The more often you see them, the better you will recognize their behaviour. You can tell by the sound they make what they are doing: whether they meet, whether they are happy, whether there is panic, disagreement or territorial struggle.’
Pie: ‘I sometimes thought that you could also be done with that kingfisher, but I think that will be difficult.’
De Vroomen: ‘Also because we photograph him. Then you’re never done. You are always looking for the perfect picture. I once shot fourteen frames per second with an automatic camera, and only then saw how fast that bird can take a dive and come back. You hardly see that with the naked eye.’
Pie: ‘I’m a huge klutz with photography. I missed all the first six matings here.’
De Vroomen: ‘You also have to keep looking at the female, never at the male. The female determines what happens.’
Pie: ‘I once had my camera on the timer and missed the crucial moment of a mating. I clicked, but because of that timer, my camera didn’t shoot for two seconds. Too late. Then I knew that the whole mating had to have happened within those two seconds.’
Kingfishers everywhere
Their obsession goes far. Their car is parked at the entrance of the complex: kingfisher blue, two large kingfishers are depicted on both front doors. They once married in blue. De Vroomen is wearing a turquoise dress and headband; Pie is wearing a blue shirt for the occasion. He shows the silver pill box that he has been carrying since a mild heart attack two years ago. On the lid is a photo of a kingfisher.
The whole breeding season, from April to the end of August, is about kingfishers at home every day. On holidays they book bird hides. Pie: ‘When we walk along a river in France, we are always on the lookout for that high beep: kingfisher!’ De Vroomen: ‘Sometimes I think I hear one, but then that sound is just in my head. I also sometimes dream of kingfishers.’
This fascination borders on pleasant madness, notes the living room psychologist in the kingfisher hut. Patient De Vroomen takes a fresh dose of self-mockery: ‘It’s a healthy addiction.’
HUMAN & ANIMAL
The discovery of the corona crisis: people and animals live in close proximity to each other. That’s why this summer a series of reports about how people and animals live together – where do they get in each other’s way, where do they stay happily in each other’s vicinity?