Summer Sightings: A Nature Column

Two killdeer are back on the grassy slope at the cemetery. They were gone for a long time after their nest beneath a small tree was raided. The abandoned nest still holds two eggs: one broken and one intact.

The female shivers while the male shows off the brilliant, fiery orange of his tail feathers, usually hidden from view. These are utilized in a ‘broken-wing’ display when threatened by an intruder, drawing attention away from the nest—a creative, instinctual response. 

Now they mate, the male flapping his wings vigorously for balance. They separate and preen. We have hopes for a new nest and potential offspring.

Canada geese gather in large groups on open grass near the river, as the adults have molted their wing feathers, which are scattered about, and the young are busy growing theirs. The grouping, open spaces and proximity to water are all protective adaptations, as they can see predators, escape to the water, and experience safety in numbers. 

All their flight feathers molt at the same time—an unusual trait that leaves them flightless for three to six weeks. I always excitedly await that first flight in late summer when they are free again, shouting out their raucous calls.

There are families at varying stages of development. Some juveniles have started to grow feathers, and some are still fluffy with that innocent eye peering out under a golden head. Some are still awkward ‘teens’, but all are intent on feeding. When they tire, they drop down onto grass, tarmac or into a river of water rushing down a hill during a sudden rainburst. They seem to grow very quickly, under the protective eye of the diligent parents. 

One day, from the car, I see a pair of swans at a dock on the Charles River. The massive male looks scruffy, whereas the more elegant female looks beautiful. Both rest on pale, wide feet—the male tucking his head under a wing, still watching me with one eye. She slips into the water, seeming to wait for him, but finally swims off slowly, as he readjusts his resting position. 

As the avian flu is rampant and deadly, I am concerned that he may be ill, as he is no longer in their usual territory for several days. The mate arrives at the dock with a small gaggle of geese around her. Over the next few days, she is seen swimming along the edge and taking cover behind small bushes, seemingly searching for him, now alone. Mute swans do mate for life, but can find a new partner after a loss.

Then, as we turn a corner to a river view, we see the pair together. The male looks fine, and they seem peaceful and idyllic together again. Nature is full of mysteries. We can only speculate. 

As we meander, a brilliant brown juvenile red-tailed hawk, its glorious spread tail caught in the light, swoops down from a stone to the ground and then flies close over our heads, carrying its young prey to a tall tree.

Early summer is filled with new life: birds fly up to their nests with full beaks to feed their young, tiny rabbits dart helter-skelter, and a symphony of cheeping calls fills the hot air.