American Golden Plover — Part 3

Charadrius dominicus

Images coming soon.

This common plover of pastures and cultivated fields, of lake-sides and marshes, or any broad tracts of land near water, that seems indispensable to its happiness, is in decided evidence because of its wild, noisy cry even when we cannot see the bird; but the two black bands across its breast, its white forehead and red eyelids easily identify it whenever met. As a rule one sees flocks of these plovers only a-wing, for they scatter when feeding. Sometimes the kill-dee, kill-dee sounds low and sweet, with a plaintive strain in it; but let any one approach the bird's haunts, and the voice rises higher and shriller until it would seem the strident notes must soon snap the vocal cords. Cows, horses, sheep, and the larger poultry that wander over a farm do not alarm these birds in the least. In their presence they are gentle and almost tame, but a man is their abhorrence in regions where they have been persecuted; elsewhere they are not conspicuously wild. Yet their flesh is musky and worthless from the point of view of the sportsman, who seldom wastes shot on it. A startled bird will run swiftly away rather than fly at first, stop occasionally to look back at the villain still pursuing it, crying complainingly all the while, and perhaps flutter in low, short flights to lure the intruder still farther away. But the killdeer, with its long, perfect wings, is a strong, steady high-flyer, however erratic and uncertain its flight may be when suddenly flushed by some innocent stroller taking a short cut through the pasture. Restless and full of fears, real or imaginary, there is scarcely an hour of the day or the night when its voice is not raised, until sportsmen have come to regard so keen a sentinel as a nuisance. Dr. Livingston met with a close kinsman of the killdeer in Africa that he described as "a most plaguey sort of public spirited individual that follows you everywhere, flying overhead, and is most preserving in his attempts to give fair warning to all animals within hearing to flee from the approach of danger."

On the ground, where the killdeer spends most of its time, it moves about daintily, quickly, even nervously; for it never remains still except for the instant when it seems to gaze at an intruder with withering contempt. Since worms, that are its favorite food, come to the surface after sundown, this bird, like many others of similar tastes, is partly nocturnal in habits; but grasshoppers, crickets, and other insects take it abroad much by day. It migrates chiefly at night, the killdeer, kildeer, resounding from the very stars.

Semipalmated Plover

(AEgialitis semipalmata)

Closely associated with friendly little sandpipers, these small plovers likewise haunt the beaches, their plumage in autumn being precisely the color of the wet sand they constantly run about on in small scattered flocks. When the tide goes out, their activities increase. Birds that have been hiding in the marshes and sand dunes now trip a light measure over the exposed sand bars and mud flats, leaving little tracks that may not be distinguished from those of the sand ox-eye or semipalmated sandpiper that hunts with them, although the plover has only three half webbed toes. The small, slightly elevated fourth toe of the ox-eye is only faintly evident at times in its tracks.

Tiny forms chase out after the receding waves, running in just in advance of the frothing ripples that do not quite overtake them, although the plovers almost never spring to wing as sandpipers do when a drenching threatens, but place all their trust in their fleet legs. With such feet as theirs, they must be able to swim; but who ever sees them in deep water? More silent, too, than sandpipers, it is chiefly when alarmed that two plaintive, sweet, but sometimes sharp notes escape them, whereas sandpipers keep up their cheerful peep, peep, under all circumstances. Real danger summons the scattered flocks of ring-necks to wing into a compact mass that moves as if swayed by one mind; but like most birds that nest too far north to become acquainted with murderous men, these gentle, confiding little plovers suspect no evil intentions and rarely fly away. Running to hide by squatting behind tufts of beach grass stills their small fears.