Hunt for a killdeer nest

My sons and I spent part of today mucking around in a swamp near our house. We've had a bunch of rain lately, so the frogs are happy and the weeds and marsh grasses are growing fast. Earlier in the week we had been in this same area and noticed a killdeer paying close attention to us. I told the boys that she must have a nest nearby. We looked around a bit. I made a replica nest of what to look for, using pebbles for eggs and telling them to watch their feet because killdeers will plop their eggs just about anywhere. We didn't find the nest.

Today we tried again. I wanted the boys to see the nest because I had talked about how fascinating they were — four eggs perfectly arranged with their points inward, perfectly camouflaged and right on the ground. "Nest" isn't really the word. "Slight depression" maybe.

As a boy I used to find killdeer nests in the cultivated area around our garden. I couldn't believe they would choose such a stupid place. But it must work. Killdeers live all across North America, with a territory as broad as the house sparrow. Somehow enough of those eggs hatch and babies survive to keep the population going.

Today I knew we were close because mommy bird started doing her trademark wing drag and tail flare to turn our attention away from the nest. We didn't follow her, of course. We stayed right where we were with our eyes on the ground in front of our feet. Suddenly — which is the only way you find a killdeer nest — there it was in my line of vision. I called the boys over. I told them not to touch the eggs because the mother would abandon the eggs if she sensed they had been fondled. (Is this true?)

The boys fell in love with the eggs. We went back in the afternoon to check on them. Later, while Campbell and I were hunting for frogs, Liam snuck away to spend more time by the nest, alone. A few minutes later I wandered over to see what he was doing. He was lying down by the nest, crisscrossing clover stems between the eggs. "I didn't touch the eggs, Dad," he said, knowing full well what I was thinking.

That evening, while I was at a meeting, the boys took their Mom to see the nest again "Liam walked right to it," my wife said. Liam added that the mother bird had taken away the clover.

We'll certainly be back to that nest tomorrow. Maybe, by some miracle of nature, we'll get lucky and see some chicks someday.

You'll wonder why I'm telling you this. I'm telling you for two reasons. Today's hunt for the killdeer nest was one of those simple but wonderful experiences for father and sons. It made me feel like a good dad. It is one of those great "at home" fun events that Elaine Froese explains in her July column in Grainews. (I've already edited the column but you won't see it for three weeks or so.) The second reason is equally banal: The nest hunt reminded me of growing up on the farm. But in this world of gameboy and soccer practice, banality is good for the mind and spirit. The chi of four speckled eggs.