The Night Shift: Our Neighborhood Killdeer

Four years ago, we moved into a newly constructed neighborhood where houses, streets, and manicured landscaping had replaced what had once been open land. Just three doors down, a small neighborhood park became an unexpected bit of wildlife habitat.

Adult Killdeer standing alert among low green vegetation, showing its distinctive double black breast bands, white underparts, brown upperparts, and bright orange-red eye ring against a softly blurred natural background. — Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) photographed in San Joaquin County, California

This past spring, a pair of Killdeer took possession of that park and successfully raised a youngster. I never discovered exactly where they nested, although I suspect they may have chosen the roof of a maintenance shed inside a fenced utility area. Wherever their nest was, the little family seemed quite content to make our neighborhood their home.

What I hadn’t expected was their enthusiasm for nighttime flying.

One night, around midnight, my son was awakened by the unmistakable calls of Killdeer circling our house. All three birds were flying together before settling onto a neighbor’s roof, where they continued their insistent dee, deet, dee calls. For at least half an hour, the nighttime chorus continued, until my son eventually fell back asleep.

And apparently, midnight wasn’t their only preferred hour.

My wife gets up for work at 4:00 each morning, and I usually get up with her. When I let our dog into the backyard, I frequently hear the same three Killdeer calling overhead, sometimes circling the houses in the darkness. It can be nearly two hours before the first hint of daylight, yet there they are, announcing themselves to the sleeping neighborhood.

Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) are familiar birds of open fields, gravel lots, and grassy spaces, but they are also remarkably adaptable to human-altered landscapes. Their scientific name is particularly fitting: vociferus means “loud-voiced” or “clamorous,” a reference to their unmistakable calls. And these birds certainly live up to their name. Their loud, penetrating cries are often heard at night, particularly when the birds are moving about or communicating with one another.

I have no idea what our neighbors think of these enthusiastic early-morning performances. I suspect not everyone welcomes a chorus of Killdeer at four o’clock in the morning.

But I do.

There is something reassuring about hearing those familiar voices in the darkness, a reminder that even in a neighborhood of new houses, fences, sidewalks, and carefully maintained lawns, the natural world continues to find a place for itself.

And every time I hear those three Killdeer calling overhead, I smile.

Our neighborhood has its own night shift.