Page 121 - ECOlogic Book

miniature killdeer appeared. Valiantly, the two killdeer parents worked
together all afternoon to get the chicks to safety. While they’d evidently
thought the driveway to be a perfectly sensible location for their nest, it was
quite a different story once the babies were hatched. As soon as the last one
was strong enough to travel, the evacuation began. One by one the mother

would coax the little ones across the vast expanse of lawn to some
predetermined safety island, while the father would employ diversionary
tactics around the nest. This “island,” existing only in the imagination of the
mother killdeer, was nothing. Just a place in the lawn where they all
collected. As soon as the last one arrived, the mother would start out again,
toward another imaginary “island,” coaxing and cajoling.

The process took all day and was still going on when Jan arrived home from
work. We watched through the window with the field glasses, counting at

each “island,” one, two, three four - yup, all four chicks made it. Then off
they’d troop again in another exodus. The final destination, it appeared, was
a green belt of weeds and multiflora roses between Jan’s property and the
horse trail beyond it. When they reached the farthest “island” before the
green belt, I counted, “One, two three . . . ? Here, you count,” I said,
handing Jan the field glasses. We counted again and again. There were only
three. Sadly, we acknowledged that one of the chicks hadn’t made it.

Finally, at dusk, we watched the mother and the three remaining chicks
disappear one by one into the green belt at the property’s edge. That was
the last of any killdeer we were to see for months.

It had been a dramatic day, and it still clung to my memory in mid-August,
as I zoomed across the front and side of the property on the tractor, like a
crazed cowboy. Suddenly, about halfway between the green belt and the
driveway, Mrs. Killdeer appeared, running toward me on the ground. I
swerved the tractor to avoid her, turned, and gunned toward the other end

of the property. On the way back for another pass, there she was again,
running toward me. I swerved again, and watched as she patrolled back and
forth, never leaving the ground. On the third pass, instead of swerving, I put
the tractor in neutral, and just sat there.

The killdeer held her ground, standing about three yards in front of the
tractor. An image flashed before my eyes of the student in Tiananmen
Square, standing in front of the tank. Mrs. Killdeer lowered her head and

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