Birdwatchers, keep an eye on killdeer nests

This column is for Gray Pritchard and other readers who share his curiosity about killdeer. Pritchard writes, “While you may have written a column about the killdeer and its nesting habits before, please consider doing another. I have a small hay farm near Youngstown, Ohio, with several gravel pads. I’ve counted three separate killdeer nests so far this year.

“I find their nesting habits fascinating: the open areas chosen, (I imagine for added visibility to predators), the adults decoying efforts when faced with danger, and particularly the fact that on the day of hatching they immediately vacate the area, not to be seen again.”

Killdeer are common and easy to recognize. Larger than a robin and a member of the plover family, this shorebird is 10 to 11 inches long. Two black horizontal bands cross a white chest, and up close the adult’s bright red eye is apparent.

The best way to learn about killdeer natural history is to find a nest and watch.

I’ve found many killdeer nests in the past, but none was easy. Even though killdeer nest in open areas — lake shores, cultivated fields, airports, yards, driveways, parking lots and even flat, gravel rooftops — they are never obvious. The incubating parent sits low and tight and is difficult to see even on a freshly mown lawn.

The best way to find a nest is to observe the adults’ behavior. When I suspect a killdeer nest is nearby, I walk back and forth across the area, hoping to attract the pair’s attention.

Usually after just a few minutes, an alarm call sounds. I turn around to see a killdeer flopping on the ground, sometimes as close as 20 feet away, acting as if a wing is broken. Its alarm call, a high, rapid trill, is loud and piercing. The bird is screaming for attention. The “broken wing act” draws my eyes, just as it would a predator’s, and I follow the “injured” adult.

I know from experience that an adult does not begin its act right at the nest. When alarmed, a killdeer slips off the nest and begins performing only when it judges itself to be a safe distance from the nest.

I slowly approach the bird and note the spot where I first saw it. As I get closer, the killdeer moves farther away from the nest, still dragging its wing. With each step I take, the bird lures me farther away from the original spot. After it moves about 20 yards from where I first saw it, it flies off and circles overheard. Its “kill-dee” call almost sounds like laughter, as if the bird is mocking me for being fooled.

An ordinary predator would now be far enough away from the nest that it would either lose interest or simply not be able to relocate the nest.

But, being no ordinary predator, I return to the spot I had first seen the bird and slowly begin searching. I walk carefully because I know the scrape of a nest and its cryptically mottled eggs are difficult to spot. And nothing would be more reckless than to step on the nest.

Eventually, I find the nest; it usually takes fewer than five minutes. Four large eggs, pointed end facing to the middle of the scrape, resemble four equal-sized pieces of pie.

On several occasions over the years, I have monitored killdeer nests. But I watch from a distance with binoculars so I don’t needlessly disturb the nest.

The parents take turns incubating the eggs for about 26 days. The lengthy incubation period enables the precocial young to hatch out ready to hit the ground running — just like chickens and ducks. On very hot days, adults may shade the nest or even cool the eggs by soaking their belly feathers.

Within an hour after hatching, four alert, downy chicks scampered off with mom and dad. The chicks feed themselves, but stay with their parents for about five weeks until the young can fly. Then they join a flock of other killdeer at the edge of a nearby wetland.

XSend questions and comments to Dr. Scott Shalaway, RD 5, Cameron, WV 26033 or via e-mail at my Web site, http://scottshalaway.googlepages.com.