178 Birds Every Child Should Know 



he coasts down from the sky — ^not on a sled, 

 but on his half -closed wings — with tremendous 

 speed, the rush of air through his stiff, long 

 wing feathers makes an uncanny, asolian music 

 that silly, superstitious people have declared 

 is a bad omen. You might think he would 

 dash out his brains in such a headlong dive 

 through the air, but before he hits the earth, 

 a sudden turn saves him and off he goes un- 

 harmed, skimming above the ground and catch- 

 ing insects after the whip-poor-will's manner. 

 He lacks the helpful bristles at the ends of his 

 fly-trap. Don't imagine, because of his name, 

 that he flies about only at night. He is not 

 so nocttimal in his habits as the whip-poor-will. 

 Toward the end of summer, especially, he may 

 be seen coursing over the open country at 

 almost any hour of the day. Once in a while, 

 as he hunts, he calls peent — a sharp cry that 

 reminds you of the meadowlark's nasal call- 

 note. Presently, mounting upward higher and 

 higher, at the leisurely rate of a boy dragging 

 his sled up hill, he seems to reach the very 

 clouds, when down he coasts again, faster than 

 a boy's flexible flyer. Listen for the booming 

 noise of this coaster! Evidently he enjoys the 

 sport as much as any boy or girl, for he repeats 

 his sky-coasting very often without having to 

 wait for a snow-storm. Indeed, when winter 

 comes, he is enjoying another simimer in South 



