The killdeer have made their nests in inconvenient places again. They always lay their eggs and raise their babies on the ground. It can shatter the peace and tranquility of a walk with three dogs to come upon the nesting area of killdeer. The parent birds go into immediate action. They shriek incessantly and the mother starts to act as if she is seriously wounded. She flaps and flutters and drags a wing, while the father circles a little further in the distance. Both of them do their best to lure the intruders away from the nest. This ruse doesn’t work too well with the dogs, so we frantically grab collars and head for home before the dogs find the baby birds.
Raven keeps wanting to go back and sniff them out. I have to watch her constantly. I know she would eat them instantly if she found them. They would be just small hors d’oeuvres to her.
As I ride around in the pasture, a killdeer keeps trying to lure me away. I watch Yankee’s hooves carefully and hope we are not coming dangerously close to a hatching nest. The nests, eggs and babies are all speckled earth color and are nearly invisible. It makes me think about the dangers of blending in too well with our surroundings — about how we might look so much like the earth that no one can tell us from the rest of the world.
“And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God” (Rom. 12:2).
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One