NIGHTJAR. 117 



an evening, they continue flying round the head of the 

 obtruder, and by striking their wings together above their 

 backs, in the manner that the Pigeons called Smiters are 

 known to do, make a smart snap; perhaps at that time they 

 are jealous for their young, and their noise and gesture are 

 intended by way of menace.' They are said to be good eating. 

 As many as eight or ten have been seen in one locality 

 together, skimming, like Swallows, over the surface of the 

 ground in search of their prey. When approached in the 

 dav-time, they are either fearless, or listless, or taken by 

 surprise; and do not seem intimidated by your approach; 

 hence the idea of their being foolish birds. During the day 

 they rest on the ground, among fern, broom, or heath, or on 

 the low branch of a tree. At the commencement of twilight, 

 when first roused from their daily slumber, they perch upon 

 some wall or rail, or heap, or eminence; perhaps waiting 

 entomologically for the appearance of the moths. 



The powers of flight of this bird are, as the Rv. Gilbert 

 White, of Selborne, has observed, truly wonderful, exceeding, 

 if possible, and in the most easy manner, the various evolu- 

 tions and quick turns of the Swallows on the wing. 'Yet,' 

 says another writer, it flits along, noiseless as a shadow; 'not 

 d rustle is heard.' At other times, when disturbed, it is 

 abrupt and wavering, though still buoyant.' 



It is a truly pleasing sight to see the Nightjar circling, 

 in its smooth and effortless way, round and round a tree in 

 the quiet calm that precedes the 'stille nacht' the 'heilige 

 nacht' when all nature is hushed in the deep silence that 

 announces the hour of rest; 



Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 

 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.' 



Save also, the poet might have added, where the hum of the 

 moth passes nervously by your ear; or the bark of the distant 

 watch-dog suddenly breaks upon the 'solemn stillness;' or the 

 shutting of a gate, let fall to by some returning lover or 

 careful shepherd, reminds you of 'bygone hours;' or the striking 

 of the bell in the grey tower of the quaint old parish church; 

 the lowing of some stray cattle; the cawing of a few restless 

 Rooks; the cooing of a Wood Pigeon or two; or the wild 

 cry of the Heron, keeps your attention awake, and you 'wait 

 a little longer;' or the sudden dash of a startled water-rat 

 into the stream wakes you from a reverie; or the 'rise' of a 



