128 SUMMER BIRDS 



have paid the death-penalty on the charge of killing 

 game, and sucking milk or eggs, though the least 

 intelligent rustic, one would say, might perceive that 

 its wide gape and weak, fringed beak render it wholly 

 incapable of any of these crimes. The nightjar is, of 

 course, neither a hawk nor an owl, but a near relative of 

 the swallows, and feeds exclusively on insects captured 

 on the wing. If, as is hardly likely, you are so sharp- 

 sighted as to detect the nightjar perched on a tree, 

 you shall never see him sitting athwart the bough after 

 the manner of other birds, but always lengthways, and 

 closely parallel to it. But you are very likely to flush 

 the parent birds after the young ones are hatched, and 

 these may lead you a long chase by the time-honoured 

 feint of a broken wing, to draw you away from the 

 brood. 



As the nesting season draws to a close, the male birds 

 of many species take back-seats. The cuckoo loses his 

 voice, the throstle and merle their song ; the cock 

 pheasant seems to shrink by one-third of his former 

 size, the scarlet patch round his eye dwindles and gets 

 dim, and the horn-like ear-coverts, so characteristic of 

 the nuptial dress, disappear. But this is slight dis- 

 figurement compared to that which befalls the mallard 

 the male of the common wild-duck. This bird is 

 among the earliest native species to incubate. The 

 female sits close for some eight-and-twenty days, while 

 her mate plays the part of a well-dressed loafer, airing 

 his fine plumage in the spring sunshine with others of 

 his own sex, and paying no attention to his offspring 



