CHAPTER EIGHTEEN SPRING BIRDS 



up it rises straight into the air, and drops again perpendicu- 

 larly in some quiet spot, with a flight Hke that of an insect 

 more than of a bird. With the shades of evening comes its 

 time of activity. With rapid and noiseless flight the night- 

 jar flits andwheels round and round as you take youreven- 

 ingwalk, catching the large moths and beetles that you put 

 into motion. Sometimes the bird alights in the path near 

 you, crouching close to the ground, or sits on a railing or 

 gate motionless, with its tail, even with its head. Frequent- 

 ly, too, these birds pitchon a house-top, and uttertheir sing- 

 ular jarring noise, like the rapid revolving of a wheel or the 

 rush of water, and the house itself appears to be tremblino-, 

 so powerful is their note. It is a perfectly harmless, indeed 

 a useful bird; and I would as soon wantonly shoot aswallow 

 as a nightjar. I admire its curiously-mottled plumage, and 

 manner of feeding and flying about in the summer and au- 

 tumnevenings, which make it more interesting when alive 

 than it can possibly be when dead. Often, when I have been 

 fishing latein the evening, has the nightjar flitted round, or 

 pitched on a rock or bank close to me, as if inclined to take 

 an interest in what I was at — confident, too, of not beino- 

 molested. Its retreat in the daytime is usually in some lone- 

 ly wild place. Though feeding wholly at night, I do not 

 think that it is annoyed by sunshine, as it frequently basks 

 in an open spot, appearing to derive enjoyment from the 

 light and glare which are shining full upon it; unlike the 

 owl, whose perch in the daytime is in some dark and shady 

 corner, where the rays of the sun never penetrate. 



The quail is sometimes killed here, but very rarely. I 

 once shot a couple on the Ross-shire side of the Moray firth, 

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