A. L. V. Manniche (1910) found the dunlin a common breeding bird on the northeast coast of Greenland. He writes:
The nests are most frequently built on hillocks with long grass. I found, however, not seldom nests of dunlins on small islets covered with short grass, but always near to or surrounded by shallow water. The dunlin's nest is often placed on similar spots, and has the same exterior as that of the phalarope, but it can easily be distinguished, as the bottom of the dunlin's nest is always lined with a few withered leaves of Salix arctica, while the phalarope uses bent straws as layer for its eggs. On spots where many dunlins nest several newly scratched but half-finished nests may always be found; they are probably left because the birds have found the ground too wet. The dunlins like to nest on moors and bogs partly irrigated by melted snow streaming down from the rocks. On such places I found many nests with eggs and newborn downy young, which were lying close together in broods carefully guarded by the old female, on isolated larger hillocks surrounded by the ice-cold snow water. When the flood of melting snow is unusually strong, such localities may be completely inundated, and then not only the eggs but also the frail young ones, which are not yet able to save themselves by swimming through the cold water to dry spots, will be destroyed.
Eggs.—The great amount of variation in the beautiful eggs of the dunlin is well illustrated in Frank Poynting's (1895) fine colored plate of 12 eggs. Herbert Massey (1913) gives a better description of the eggs than I can give, so I quote him, as follows:
The eggs of this species resemble those of G. gallinago very closely in color, but in comparing a series (74 sets or 296 eggs) with that of G. gallinago one is struck by the greater proportion of the lighter ground colors in the dunlin, the very deep olives and the very dark browns being almost absent. On the other hand, the beautiful light blue-green and the pale buff are rare in G. gallinago. The surface spots are chiefly two shades of brown, a rich red and a dark brown, with, in many cases, spots of violet gray. In T. alpina it is rare to find the two shades of brown in the same egg, as is often the case with G. gallinago. The markings are very varied, some eggs dusted all over with tiny specks, others with specks and fair-sized spots, and again others with great blotches of color, chiefly at the larger end. The pattern markings on the eggs of the same set are often very dissimilar. Many of the eggs of this species show the spiral arrangement of the spots. The eggs are very glossy, and on this account have a brighter appearance than eggs of G. gallinago. I have only one set entirely without gloss.
The number of eggs is normally four, occasionally only three, and as many as five and even six have been found in a nest. The measurements of 100 eggs, furnished by Rev. F. C. R. Jourdain, average 34.3 by 24.4 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 38.3 by 25.4, 35 by 25.8, 31.3 by 23.2, and 32 by 23 millimeters.
Young.—Incubation is shared by both sexes and requires 22 days. Macgillivray (1852) says of the young:
Like those of the golden plover and lapwing, they leave the nest immediately after exclusion from the egg, run about, and when alarmed conceal themselves by sitting close to the ground and remaining motionless. If at this period a person approaches their retreat, the male especially, but frequently the female also, flies up to meet the intruder and uses the same artifices for deceiving him as many other birds of this family. After they are able to shift for themselves the young remain several weeks on the moors with their parents, both collecting into small flocks, which are often intermingled with those of the golden plover, and often in the evenings uniting into larger. They rest at night on the smoother parts of the heath, and both species, when resting by day, either stand or lie on the ground. When one advances within a hundred yards of such a flock it is pleasant to see them stretch up their wings, as if preparing for flight, utter a few low notes, and immediately stand on the alert, or run a short way; but at this season they are not at all shy.
Seton Gordon (1915), after giving a charming account of the breeding haunts of the dunlin in Scotland, has this to say about the solicitude of a devoted mother.
It was about this time that I saw the hen in precisely the same locality as before. She showed much more anxiety than the cock, uttering almost incessantly two alarm notes as she walked round me. One of these notes was the characteristic trill, unlike, I think, any other cry in the bird world; the other, which appeared to be the note of extra alarm, was a harsh cry reminding me much of the alarm note of the lesser tern. In order to observe the effect, I called several times, imitating the cry of one of her chicks. The effect was striking and instantaneous; the bird rushed up in alarm and literally rolled herself about on the ground with feathers ruffled. She, indeed, presented such an appearance that it was quite impossible to see her head or feet emerging from the disheveled bundle into which she rolled herself. Evidently her tactics were quite different—considerably less elegant, but perhaps equally forcible—to those used by the dotterel under similar circumstances. After a time she began to realize that her deception was producing no effect on the object of her mistrust, and moved anxiously round me.