My house is at the end of a mile-long gravel road. Despite my impatient nature, I drive it slowly, binoculars on the seat beside me, ready to stop and watch birds.
From April to June, I sometimes see Killdeer running on the gravel road. Their legs move so fast the birds seemed to be floating. One morning, as I came around a turn, a Killdeer at the road edge stood up and ran away down the road. I skidded to a stop, rolled down the window, and studied the ground through my binoculars.
There had to be a nest, but I saw only the rocks and dusty weeds. No nest. However, this is the sort of site that Killdeer often choose. They lay their eggs directly on the ground, with no soft cushion such as most birds build into their nests.
On my next trip, I took along my spotting scope. Again, I saw a Killdeer run away from the same place. I stopped at a distance, so as not to stress the parents, and rested my spotting scope on the car window.
I scanned the ground at the edge of the road. Suddenly four eggs seemed to materialize. They were on a bed of rocks, amid a few scant weeds, which provided almost no concealment. I could photograph them with my long camera lens from far away.
They were right next to the traffic! If two cars met, one might swerve onto the nest. I was already holding my breath for these eggs. Furthermore, people often walk their dogs along that road. I didn’t think the nest had much chance of success.
Nevertheless, I didn’t see anything I could do to help. Experts say you should not move Killdeer eggs. I steeled myself for the reality that most birds’ nests do not succeed. I could only let nature be and hope for a miracle.
Over the next two weeks, I always saw an adult Killdeer get up from there when my car rounded the turn. I wondered how incubation could possibly succeed with a zillion interruptions from passing cars. At least no car had yet run over the eggs.
One day I met the road grader only 100 yards from the Killdeer nest. I waved my arm at the driver, who obligingly stopped his diesel engine and leaned down at me from his high window. I explained about the nest. "Could you postpone grading that part of the road for a week or two, to give the Killdeer eggs time to hatch?" I asked.
The driver told me he was only smoothing out ruts in the road that day. "Probably next week we'll be grading the edges," he said. "That's gonna clear off everything on both sides, so those eggs better hurry up."
A few days later, I saw three miniature Killdeer running around on the road like fuzzy little toys. They were amazingly fast on their huge feet.
While I was stopped to watch, another car approached. I was afraid it would run over the babies. I got out and got the attention of the driver, who was my neighbor. I asked her to proceed slowly. At this moment, one of the parent killdeer spread its wings out to the sides and charged at me head on, with piercing calls. It startled me. Such a brave display!
As other cars came along the road, I became the self-appointed crossing guard. I was wondering when the parents were going to get those babies out of the street. Everyone I talked to was delighted to see the little birds. Most had never seen baby Killdeer before. They drove through very carefully, with big smiles on their faces.
The three youngsters ran around in the road for an hour. Then a fourth chick wandered onto the gravel. I could tell it was newly hatched. It wasn't fluffy like its three siblings but was still damp from the egg. This baby must have been what the parents were waiting for. A few minutes after it appeared, the whole family disappeared into some taller weeds, and the road was empty again.
I walked over and looked at the spot where the Killdeer had pulled off their improbable feat. I thought maybe I would see a place where the vegetation was flattened, but nothing remained to show where the nest had been. The Killdeer nest was a complete success. Whew!
Your stories always amaze me, as did this one! Lucky little Killdeer to have you living on their road and keeping them safe!!🥰
I love your stories of the everyday which, when told so beautifully, are little pearls in my day. Thank you.