Beech Tree News Network

If you were to drive up my gravel driveway today, you would notice that only the right half of the grassy area that splits my drive into two sides is mowed.  The left side looks like a hay field.  It hasn’t been mowed in three weeks.  There is a reason it hasn’t been mowed in three weeks.  In the middle of the left side of my gravel driveway, there sits a nest.  Upon that nest sits a bird, let me clarify, birds.  I say birds because they are Killdeer, and the Killdeer mom and dad take turns sitting on the nest during the incubation period of the eggs.

When I try mowing the grassy area near the left side of my driveway, the Killdeer on the nest becomes alarmed.  She or he, whichever is on that particular shift, will hop off the nest, drop one wing to the ground and struggle pitifully away.  This is a ruse.  The bird is leading anything or anybody who seems a threat away from the nest in an attempt to protect the eggs.

I stopped using that side of the driveway or mowing near there, because I was afraid I was wearing the parents out.  The gestation period for Killdeer is from 24 to 28 days, so I hope to see little ones scurrying about soon.  Also, it will be good to have a nicely manicured lawn once more.

There are other birds who share responsibility for their offspring.  Quail take turns sitting on the nest, and the Emperor penguin dads go above and beyond the call of duty.  After laying a single egg, the Emperor penguin mom’s nutritional reserves are exhausted, so she transfers the egg to the dad for safe-keeping then she returns to the ocean for a couple of months in order to feed and regain strength.

The dad spends time incubating the egg in a brood pouch that sits on top of his feet.  The gestation period for an Emperor penguin is 64 days.  During this period, the dad doesn’t eat at all, causing him to lose up to half of his body weight.  The mom returns shortly after the chick hatches, allowing the dad to return to the ocean to feed.  The baby is fed by food reserves stored in the mom’s stomach, which she regurgitates. (Wikipedia.com)

That information makes me feel pretty petty about the times I complained while taking care of my children when they were young.  It also makes me wish I’d asked my husband, Garey, for more help.  I could have told him to count his blessings, since I wasn’t asking him to balance our daughters on his feet for 64 days.

Can you imagine the kind of faith that takes to wait for 64 days with a kid in an incubation pouch on your feet, while you huddle with other dads who are in the same predicament during a dark Arctic winter, without eating, while waiting for your wife to come back with food?  Now, that is an object lesson in faith.  

I’ve watched the killdeer sit on their nest during a torrential downpour, a windstorm and heat searing days.  Nothing deters them.  They, like the Emperor penguins, wait.  They stay and they wait, regardless of the circumstance.  My faith doesn’t hold a candle to theirs.  They depend upon and believe in one another.  The survival of their young depends upon that united front, that shared responsibility.  

We humans could take a lesson from those birds.