86 WASTE-LAND WANDERINGS 



should feel slighted, and brushing through the tall club- 

 rush, rich with nutty -brown bloom, was soon fairly 

 homeward bound, with not a wish for further novelty. 



But it was not to be. As I came to my neighbor's 

 pasture meadow, I found the spot anything but quiet, 

 as I expected. Hundreds of excited birds filled the air, 

 which but a glance needed to identify as night-hawks. 

 Graceful and erratic as swallows in their flight, they 

 remained remarkably near the ground, and seemed 

 scarcely to rise above the level of my head. For a mo- 

 ment I stood perfectly still, and felt the wind from their 

 wings as they rushed by; but all the while I heard no 

 vocal utterance. Each was too busy with the myriads 

 of small flies, which I could not see, but felt were in 

 the air, to sing or even twitter to a passing fellow. My 

 curiosity was, of course, roused to know what insects 

 these were, that kept the night-hawks abroad at so un- 

 usual an hour ; and resting my burden at the foot of a 

 large elm, I prepared to investigate the matter. This 

 was easily done. Striking a light, I found that from 

 the foot of the elm there had issued and was issuing a 

 brood of winged ants, which the night-hawks discover- 

 ing, had chased while the sunlight lasted and continued 

 in pursuit long after they were able to see the insects. 

 This was not surprising, for they had but to fly with 

 their beaks widely opened to take as many as they de- 

 sired. Usually, the night-hawk flies only during the 

 subdued light, shortly before sunset and for a brief 

 period afterwards, if the sky is clear ; but exceptions to 

 this are so far common, that it is a question if they can- 

 not successfully pursue their prey, guided by some other 



