The Killdeer 



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 though she had been stepped on. But 

 if 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 cords. 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 in- 

 credibly 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, teeeee-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 opera- 

 tion 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. 







Taken in Kern County 

 Photo by the Author 



II 



AN INTERESTED OBSERVER 



