I always wanted to see a kingfisher. One day, I asked somebody who knew far more about wildlife than I did. He suggested I go to the “rhino in the river”, the small statue in the river Dodder, behind the Dropping Well pub in Milltown, Dublin 6. And so I did.
On my first and second visit, I drew a blank. But on my third visit, I did see a blink-of-the-eye flash of electric blue – about 1m above the water, heading downstream. My first sighting of the elusive kingfisher. In subsequent weeks I visited the area on a regular basis, and before long, I managed to see a few more flashes of the beautifully coloured bird. Having a passion for photography, I was determined to capture the magnificent kingfisher on camera. And so my journey began.
A few weeks later, I struck it lucky. On a quiet stretch of the river, there it was – blissfully unaware of my presence – about 2m away perching along the bank. I managed to compose myself – and the picture – and pressed the shutter (repeatedly). After about 10 seconds, an incoming WhatsApp message pinged on my phone. Though not loud, it triggered the kingfisher’s speedy departure. None of the images would ever win an award: the bird was backlit and I was angling downwards. But nonetheless, I was delighted: my very first kingfisher image.
Indeed, I was delighted – but was I happy? No, not really. Human nature being what it is, I told myself I’d have to do better. And, as the weeks and months and the seasons went by, I did, incrementally. Armed with a long lens, and as a result of gradually getting to know the behaviour patterns better, and identifying specific locations where kingfishers were more likely to land, I built up my portfolio of kingfisher portraits.
In 2020 the river had become much busier, a succinctly written editorial in The Irish Times, entitled “Wonders within 5km”, resonated with me. At this time great numbers of people began to rediscover some of the many natural wonders in their locality. I sent a photograph of a female kingfisher perched amid the golden autumn foliage along the river to The Irish Times. The image reflected the precise premise of the editorial. I was thrilled when my photograph was reproduced the following day, highlighting the wonderful fact that the Dodder was now frequented by kingfishers.
Yes, once again, I was happy. But still not satisfied. Now I wanted more: a picture of a kingfisher with a fish in its beak, a kingfisher in flight, a kingfisher diving, a male and female together, a young kingfisher. Wildlife photographers always want to capture a better image than the last one. I amassed thousands of pictures of blurry branches and empty stretches of river, with, occasionally, an out-of-focus splash. But with practice, perseverance and luck, things slowly began to improve. I was beginning to see some results – very often the back half of the bird as she disappeared out of the frame, or, later on, a perfectly sharp bird minus a beak.
During my quest for more images of the kingfisher, I discovered that the river hosted an amazing diversity of wildlife, such as the motionless grey heron, an imperious sparrowhawk, newly fledged wagtails, the lively goldcrest, wren, blackcap and long-tailed tit (another considerable challenge) and the relentless parent dippers foraging for food for their young.
The river was also home to jittery fox cubs, peering from the undergrowth, as well as whiskered otters, who display wonderful aquatic dexterity when they hunt for fish and eels. Insects can also be spotted in abundance: peacock butterflies, the holly blue and orange-tip, which are among the first to emerge in spring, the small tortoiseshell and red admiral. Keen observers will notice dragonflies and demoiselles, which take advantage in warm weather of the millions of tiny insects along the river to feed on.
So, how is it possible that this river is healthy and clean enough to support such a vast diversity of wildlife? In particular, one group can claim much of the credit: Dodder Action, an umbrella group of volunteers who aim to maximise the potential of the river Dodder as an amenity for the people of Dublin.
Among this group’s activities are: organising working groups of volunteers to go out and clean the river banks with equipment from Dublin City Council, Dún Laoghaire Rathdown County Council and South Dublin County Council; partnering with UCD’s Citizen Science projects and regular water-testing and monitoring. Dodder Action has also highlighted the success of the deposit return scheme, leading to a significant reduction in the number of tins and plastic bottles being dumped into the river.
The Dodder is also very well served by associations such as Tallaght Community Association and Knocklyon Network, which contribute time and expertise to protecting and restoring the river along their local stretches. Other stakeholders, such as Dodder Anglers, also support the health of the river, doing what’s required to support the wild brown trout. Every year they stock it with a couple of hundred farmed trout. Needless to say, some of the natural world’s most efficient fishers, such as otters, grey herons and cormorants, have very little objection to this practice.
In these years visiting the Dodder, I realised that as well as enjoying the photographic challenges, I was also appreciating the exercise, the fresh air, the collegiality of like-minded people and, above all, a gradual reconnection with the natural world.
None of the sightings referred to are guaranteed, of course. But if you’re aware of what you might see, you’re far more likely to see it.
If you have been lucky enough to see a kingfisher, you won’t forget it. A small bird with unmistakable, extravagantly coloured plumage; its beak is long and black, though females have a red patch at the base. With a wingspan of 25cm and body length of 16cm, a kingfisher is only slightly larger than a robin, although it is nearly twice as heavy. Its speed and agility as it flies dives and hovers in the air really have to be seen to be believed.
The words of Welsh poet WH Davies encapsulate for me the overriding premise of my book Wild Waterways:
‘What is this life if,
Full of care
We have no time to stand and stare.’
Wild Waterways: A Celebration of Life on an Irish River by Robert O’Leary is published by Merrion Press
