Early days are a dangerous time for bird babies. Between weather, hunger, predators, and accidents, the sad fact is a baby bird’s chance to survive its first year is about 50-50 in general. Yes, we know mortality is necessary to avoid an unsustainable population explosion but it’s especially hard knowing that human activity is adding to the risks present in nature. In the case I’m spotlighting today it’s a road that runs along the shore separating the beach (food) from the field behind it (nesting, shelter). We rarely actually see baby birds who die, and in fact I didn’t see that among the killdeer family that nested nearby this spring, but I did see diminishing numbers, and have good reason to think the road is a likely reason. Here’s what I observed over several days in May and June.
On May 22 I heard a lot of killdeer alarm vocalizing as I bicycled along the road. You know how piercing their calls are. I stopped to see what was going on. An adult killdeer was pacing back and forth in the yard of a waterfront cabin. The road runs between the cabins and a medium bank beach.
I knew it was nesting season and that killdeer often nest out in the open on gravely surfaces so I looked around. Seeing movement in the driftwood and rock rip rap, I caught a quick view of a chick before it hopped down onto the gravel beach.
I watched for a while from the road. One parent was already on the beach and the other flew down, doing a broken wing display. Then both parents skittered off down the beach following the chick. From the running and hopping around amongst the seaweed and waves, it sure looked like the chicks were in exploring mode but also pretty industriously searching out possible food items.
Turned out there were actually two chicks there! Both were running along the waterline pecking at arthropods in the sea wrack. A couple of times the small waves washed around them but they didn’t really lose their footing.
The parents were keeping up with the chicks, and pretty much letting them go where they wanted. I followed their progress down the beach from my vantage up on the road until they all disappeared into the driftwood.
I kept an eye on the beach for the next week but saw no sign of any killdeer. A neighboring beach that the road also runs along almost always has a few killdeer, who come and go from a big horse field behind it. This beach is much more protected from incoming waves and weather, with muddy sand rather than gravel.
I didn’t see any chicks, but I did snap a picture of a killdeer resting in the sand on June 2 who had an unusual orangey band on its neck between black bands where killdeer usually have white. It also doesn’t have the bright orange eye ring adults have. A more difficult feature to judge is the state of feathers on its back: while adults at this time of year are somewhat raggedy looking, juveniles have more a uniform shaped feather pattern. These are all features described by Birds of North America (birdsna.org/...) and illustrated in their gallery of photos at Macaulay Library (search.macaulaylibrary.org/...).
A week later, on June 9, I witnessed a close call on the road. I had stopped and gotten off my bike and was listening to killdeer on the beach trying to see what was going on. An adult flew to one end of the beach, calling. When I turned to look, I saw another running into the road in the direction of the beach. At the same time, a car came hurtling around the corner in its direction. The car was probably only going 30mph but that’s too fast for a tiny shorebird to outrun.
I waved at the car to slow down but they were past me before even being able to register it. Cringing I watched the baby killdeer reverse course and run back to the edge of the road, missing the wheels by literal inches (No pictures — crisis situation). Once quiet resumed — and this is a fairly unfrequented road — the little one walked back out onto the road, standing there for a bit before heading across toward the beach again hesitantly. Meanwhile, the parent was down below calling.
The little one made its way down onto the beach, meeting up with the parent, and both wandered around on the muddy shore feeding for a while. The juvenile had an orangey band on its chest like the one I saw a week earlier, with the same greyish eye ring. It could run and feed just fine, but it couldn’t fly.
That’s where I left the two of them. Since then I’ve been unable to visit the beach except briefly due to an injury I’m recovering from, so I have no further information about this family.
However I do know it’s exceedingly rare to see juvenile killdeer on these beaches based on my nearly daily visits for many years. Killdeer are common most of the year but generally scarcer during nesting season. They nest elsewhere. I have seen nests on the soccer field of the local school which is 3 miles inland, for example.
Sources say killdeer incubate a clutch of 4-6 eggs for 3-4 weeks, then lead babies to feeding grounds the day after they all hatch, although overall statistics show only about half of ground-nesting birds’ eggs survive predation to hatching (usually all or none are lost). Chicks are tended by both parents, but feed themselves. Average age the young can first fly is 25 days. This suggests to me that within the first few days after hatching, 2-4 babies were lost before I saw them on May 22. The one lying in the sand on June 2 would have been about 15 days old and the one nearly hit by the car about 22 days. While adult killdeer have no trouble with the road at all, juveniles who can’t fly yet would be at risk any time they needed to cross between the field and the beach. That risk may be why killdeer rarely nest at this site. But for families who beat the odds, the payoff in food sources would be worth it, and survival rates for juvenile birds improve dramatically after a few weeks. By now, able to fly, this youngster would be as able to avoid cars as the adults.
One might ask why don’t the killdeer learn about cars and cross at safer times? But it’s important to recognize that pretty much all of a chick’s behavior is hardwired when it hatches. How does it know to respond to a parent’s call? — hardwired. How does it know how and what to eat? — hardwired. Precocial ground-nesting birds like shorebirds have to be functional from day 1, so instinct is what they must rely on. Running away from big noisy things seems to be instinct, or learned early on.
Considering the wealth of food available on these beaches it’s a shame it’s so risky raising youngsters here. I hope killdeer do nest near beaches in places with no roads. I have no way of knowing since those are on private property.
Kind of a grim topic for our Dawn Chorus today, but mortality is part of the story in nesting season. And since that last youngster survived its most dangerous few weeks, it might be home free, or at least as safe as other birds who can fly. It makes a huge difference!
Dawn Chorus is now open for your birdy observations of the week.
Seeing signs of nesting or youngsters? Or?