THE POLEGATE WOODS. 105 
at least such, I believe, to have been the history of a bird whose nest I once 
found, with one egg in it. I put the bird up, found the nest, and left it. But 
when, some days after, I was passing the same spot and looked in upon them, 
I was surprised to find the egg gone, while some tell-tale Nightjar feathers, 
scattered around what had been the nest, bore witness to a tragedy of the 
woods. 
The Nightjar, when flushed, is said to fly usually to the nearest oak, and 
settle lengthwise on a branch; but one that I started pitched on a thin twig, 
where it sat crosswise, balancing itself somewhat awkwardly, a position which 
A HAUNT OF BUTTERFLIES. 
made its head look monstrous and out of all proportion to the size of its 
body. As is the case with the Stone-Curlew in districts where they are to 
be found, the natives always tell you that there are “dozens” about in the 
evening as soon as it gets dark; but the fact is that even a pair of Stone- 
Curlews or Nightjars gyrating about and screaming or jarring in the dusk 
will suggest the presence of quite half a dozen birds, and all statements as 
to numbers based on what has been seen after dark should always be 
accepted with reserve. I fancy two pairs of Nightjars are the utmost that 
any of these clearings could produce. 
Woods of any sort are, in the main, sorry places for Warblers. I have 
often sought in vain for the Wood-Wren, spurred on at times by rumours 
