A pair of Eastern Kingbirds nested on the pulpit of a friend’s sailboat, which was not in much use this spring/summer. At first glance I thought the nest appeared awfully exposed-but closer inspection revealed that the pulpit seat shielded the nest from sun, rain, and sky-based predators, and the railing around the boat’s bow provided a perch for the birds, as well as a flight obstacle to herons. The floating location made snake intrusion much less likely as well. Upon reflection, I suspected this locale was chosen by experienced parents.

The Kingbird, Tyrannus tyrannus, is aptly named for its vigorous defense of its territory even from the largest predators. It is not common in our area, although now that I know the sound of its call and look for the telltale white tail tip, I have seen several family groupings in the surrounding neighborhood.

Mom and Dad Kingbird produced 3 helpless, cute, reptilian-appearing chicks and spent their days alternating feeding flights.

One parent would guard the nest, usually perching on the bow rail, while the other flew off for a bug or a tasty mulberry.

Once one parent returned, the other would immediately take flight to get more food.

Kingbirds are described as fly-catchers, that is, they grab their prey on the wing, much like barn swallows do. It was while observing these alternating foraging flights that I learned to tell the Mom from the Dad.

When Mom was guarding the nest, she often roosted on the chicks, warming and adjusting them. She picked bits of guano and stray sticks and feathers out of the nest with a flick of her beak.

Dad never roosted on the chicks or performed house cleaning, though he was just as attentive to the movements and safety of the nestlings. He also had a small pompadour, in contrast to Mom’s sleek round head. I learned of the nest just after the chicks hatched, so I can’t say whether he shared duties incubating the eggs with the mother.

Having seen the mother dive-bomb a great heron repeatedly, forcing the larger bird to hunch its shoulders and first walk, then fly away, I was a little concerned about getting close enough to the nest and its occupants to take good pictures without alarming the parents, and possibly being attacked. Surprisingly, although both parents watched my every move closely, they tolerated me slowly and carefully climbing aboard the sailboat (with our friend’s permission) just after dawn each day to sit on the forward hatch. From there I was easily able to watch and photograph. Although Mom and Dad seemed to carry on naturally despite my presence, I limited my visits to about 20 minutes per session.

The three nestlings were extremely vocal, making quiet peeps as they jostled each other in the nest and loud choruses of anticipation when they perceived a parent flying in with food. With the parents tirelessly providing an endless parade of juicy insects and berries, they progressed rapidly (within 10 days) from helpless fluff balls to miniature adults-though you can see their stray baby feathers sticking out everywhere. They got so large so rapidly that I feared they might shoulder one another out of the nest into the water before they fledged.

Nicknamed Manny, Mo, and Jack in honor of The Pep Boys, they became so used to my presence that when I came aboard, they would turn their beady eyes to me, and begin the “food is coming” song, directed at my camera.

At this point, I terminated my visits sadly, not wanting them to become too accustomed to humans, as this might not serve them well in the wild. A week later, on the morning we left the marina on a 2 week trip to visit family, I went to take one last look at the nest. It was bare.

We had a great time on our car trip, and returned late on a Friday night. Next day, I was thrilled to hear the familiar chirp of the Kingbird, and was amazed to see the whole family group-5 birds- swoop through the air in pursuit of dinner, then alight one by one on the stays of their sailboat.  The tableau lasted but a moment. A powerboat in the nearby channel gunned its engine loudly and the birds rocketed away-but I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.