Masked Lapwing (Vanellus Miles)

         The plover hen was sitting on her eggs, on a circular patch of lawn, in the middle of a driveway leading to a hall of residence in the campus of the University of Queensland, Brisbane, when we arrived in late August.  The masked lapwing, a common Australasian bird, is one of the largest plovers, grey-white on long red legs, with distinctive yellow drooping wattles.  There were three eggs, laid straight on to the grass without a nest of any kind.  The eggs were clearly visible when the hen sometimes stood up, shading them from the sun.  The male plover, the sexes are alike, was in the vicinity and appeared from time to time.  The hen cackled a warning every time someone approached too near, a sound that became familiar over the following days, a greeting almost.  About three weeks after our arrival, in mid-September, I was rewarded one morning by the sight of two fluffy little chicks, mere bundles of feathers on long legs, walking around, pecking at the grass.  Both parents were protectively close, with the male especially, ready to attack should anyone dare to approach the chicks.  Masked lapwings are equipped with sharp claws and a yellow spur on the carpal joint of each wing.  The third egg hatched the next morning and then there were three little bundles of feathers watched over by the two parent birds.  The male would go away from time to time but alarmed calls from the hen would bring him flying back to defend his brood.  There was no shelter or protection for the newly hatched chicks on the open piece of grass.  This was provided by the hen.  Every now and then the chicks were not visible, just the hen, looking somewhat plump, sitting on the lawn.  She sat with all the chicks tucked safely under her wings, where they were protected from the elements and from birds of prey such as marauding crows in the nearby trees.  Presumably that is where the expression comes from - to take someone under one’s wing.