480 THE KILLDEER 
General Range.—Temperate North America, breeding north to Newfound- 
‘and and Manitoba, migrating to the West Indies, Central America, and northern 
South America; Bermuda. 
Range in Ohio.—Common summer resident throughout the state; winters 
sparingly in southern portion. 
ALTHO the shrill cry of the Killdeer shouting his name is a welcome 
sound when it cuts across the frosty sky in early spring, one can scarcely 
forgive him the immoderate clamor of midsummer, nor the officious way 
in which your self-appointed guide heralds the approach of the huntsman 
{o every living thing. If you are actually near the nest there is some excuse 
for alarm, and the female does not fail to try every ruse in the endeavor to 
lure you away from the dangerous spot. First she rolls and flounders 
away across the ground, screaming with agony, as tho she had been stepped 
on. But 1f you are simple enough to follow, the bird gradually recovers, 
and is soon able to patter along ahead of you with tolerable celerity. The 
male, too, is no indifferent spectator. He comes as near as he dares, and 
shrieks, “Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear,’ until the wonder is that he does not 
burst a blood vessel or split his vocal chords. Interested neighbors add 
their frenzy to the din, until in desperation you are almost ready to believe 
yourself the frightful villain they are all accusing you of being. If you 
are willing to quit the place a bevy of fathers will pilot you out of bounds. 
One will patter ahead of you with breast pushed forward and legs incred- 
ibly nimble, only to pull up presently with a jerk and a compensatory bob 
to ask if you are following. The others describe a great half-circle about 
you with graceful wing but unceasing stridor, and take their places in the 
van. The birds believe themselves extremely clever as they lead you off 
by alternate flights and sprints, and you may hear them indulge from time 
to time in a low rapid titter, teeeece-t, which you may be sure is quite at your 
expense. All this racket is bad enough at best, and one may be really sorry 
to have intruded at first, but when the whole operation is gone through with 
again the next time you happen that way, and when you know that the young 
are long since flying, all this fuss and outcry is distinctly annoying. One 
feels as if the Killdeer had contracted the habit of yellow-journalism and 
couldn’t let go. 
The Killdeer nests in fallow fields, plowed ground, and open prairie, 
cr else upon the open bars of river courses, never very far from water, but 
by no means confined to it. The four eggs are invariably placed with the 
little ends together, so that they may occupy the least room possible; and 
this appears quite necessary when we note how large they are in compari- 
son with the parent bird. Sometimes a little grass or crumbled bark or 
dried rabbits’ dung serves for the lining, but often the eggs are laid upon the 
hare ground. Once in eastern Washington, I found what I think must be 
