Growing up on a farm, I would often find myself seated on an old tractor, pulling some form of tillage equipment across a darkening field. It was a time that required concentration, yet demanded daydreaming. I enjoyed the work more when it allowed me to watch the birds.

There were days when I would see a Killdeer run ahead of the tractor.  This beautiful little bird that named herself, was worried that the beast which was the tractor would destroy her nest.

Calling the Killdeer’s nest a nest is to use the term very loosely. It is little more than a slight scrape in the soil. She lays her eggs on the ground in an open spot where they blend extremely well into the landscape.  As the tractor and I roared nearer to the bird’s nest, the mama Killdeer drooped a wing feigning a terrible injury.  She hoped that this performance would lead me away from her nest and her precious eggs. 

Read the rest of the Al's column in our June issue...