On the back side of our property lies an abandoned gravel parking lot. Once, it’s tightly packed limestone gleamed white in the sun, but now after years of inactivity, the small stones have dissappeared like the hair on my head, leaving only large, craggily foundation stones peeking through random outcroppings of hardy weeds. It’s kinda like a rock garden that needs mowed.
Mowing over jagged, uneven rocks can be nerve wracking. I raise the mower deck and proceed tentively—holding my breath while wincing, waiting for that familiar ‘THWACK’ of spinning steel against rock. Because the weed outcroppings are so random, I zig zag back and forth across the abandoned lot—all the while secretly hoping my neighbors aren’t watching…”Hey, Gina, check this out…that crazy old dude is mowing his parking lot again!”
Suddenly a Killdeer darts out in front of my tractor screaming in protest, dragging her wing along the ground. Even though she startles me, I’m very familiar with this particular Killdeer. She returns to this same nesting spot on the perifery of our abandoned lot each year. And each year during nesting season we dance this dance together.
You probably know about the Killdeer—a small bird whose white spots and ringed neck bespeak those of a little fawn. She prefers to lay her eggs on the ground, which isn’t all that unusual in the bird-world, but for some reason she rejects the comfort of grass and the safety of covering, choosing instead to nest in open gravel…no padding…no protective cover! Her eggs are artfully colored to look exactly like the stones in which they lie. Believe me, they are very difficult to find. But the most incredible thing to me about the Killdeer is the sacrificial act she displays hoping to draw predators away from the nest and to herself.
Each season, I shut off the mower, climb down, find the nest and mark it with a stick, and each season she does her best to draw me toward her.
This incredible display sets the Killdeer apart from all other birds. If a preditor approaches, she abandons the nest, limping off while screeching like a wounded animal. She contorts her wings into grotesque positions, as though they are broken, to convince a predator she is easy prey. This God-given instinct is the only means she has to protect her precious children. She will boldly expose herself to any adversary to protect her nest…including a roaring tractor.
I’m always moved by the undaunted courage of this small bird. Although I promise her no harm, she continues to rush the mower only to limp off, wings a’ flailing.
The ancient prophet Isaiah foresaw a similar sacrificial act and wrote of it…
“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:4-5
We live in a dangerous environment full of temptations, and harmful influences—things that threaten to hurt or even kill our body and soul. Yet, like this gutsy bird, Jesus ran to our defense, taking on all predators and offering himself sacrificially. The result: Satan forever lost his death-grip on mankind! Because of Jesus Christ, death has no power over those who place themselves under his protective wing.
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com