i8 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE 



as day. The gathering dusk which closes the petals 

 of the wild flowers, and stills the song of the Wil- 

 low Wren and the Lark, is the signal for other eyes 

 to awaken and alert forms to issue forth. 



Standing in the recess of the wood, the shadows 

 of the great oaks form a pool of blackness on the 

 grass, but beyond this the eye can easily follow 

 the light band of the road as it runs through the 

 darker green of the closely-cropped sward on either 

 side. The night w-ind stirs the leaves of the trees, 

 and far away across the valley a single light ap- 

 pears from some distant farmstead. In the warm, 

 leafy darkness, a great beetle, his horny wing- 

 shields raised to give play to the gossamer pinions 

 beneath, goes humming by on some nameless 

 errand. Now a faint burr-rr-ing sound reaches the 

 ear; trembles on the very verge of hearing, as it 

 seems. 



Soon we see clearly the pointed wings of the 

 Nightjar, turning in the air, swallow-like, to 

 snap a moth, then vanishing in the dark recess 

 of the oaks. Now it rests on a bough close at 

 hand, not standing athwart upon it, after the 

 manner of other birds, but crouching lengthwise, 

 with its head depressed lower than its body, and 

 the burr-rr-ing sound becomes more distinct. In- 

 deed, it is not certain that this peculiar cry is 

 ever uttered when the bird is actually upon the 

 wing.i At one moment one hears it from the 

 left, then from the right; now it is in front, and 

 now^ behind, so that one seems to be surrounded by 



^ The somewhat startling call- or alarm-note, however, is 

 heard during the flight. 



