136 THE NIGHTJAR 



way close up to the bird, but as I labour under the disadvantage 

 of being short-sighted, and derive little assistance from glasses 

 at night, I have always failed to observe it actually perched and 

 singing. In the summer of 1859 a Nightjar frequented the imme- 

 diate neighbourhood of my own house, and I had many opportunities 

 of listening to its note. One evening especially, it perched on a railing 

 within fifty yards of the house, and I made sure of seeing it, but 

 when I had approached within a few yards of the spot from whence 

 the sound proceeded the humming suddenly stopped, but was 

 presently again audible at the other end of the railing which ran 

 across my meadow. I cautiously crept on, but with no better 

 success than before. As I drew near, the bird quitted its perch, 

 flew round me, coming within a few feet of my person, and, on my 

 remaining still, made itself heard from another part of the railing 

 only a few yards behind me. Again and again I dodged it, but 

 always with the same result ; I saw it, indeed, several times, but 

 always on the wing. At last a longer interval of silence ensued, 

 and when I heard the sound again it proceeded from a distant 

 hedge which separated the meadow from a common. Here pro- 

 bably its mate was performing the domestic duty of incubation 

 cheered by the dismal ditty of her partner ; but I never saw her, 

 though I undertook another nocturnal chase of the musician, hunt- 

 ing him from tree to tree, but never being able to discover his 

 exact position, until the cessation of the sound and the sudden 

 rustling of leaves announced the fact of his having taken his 

 departure. 



In the dusk of the evening the Nightjar may commonly be seen 

 hawking tor moths and beetles after the manner of the Swallow- 

 tribe, only that the flight is less rapid and more tortuous. I once 

 saw one on the common mentioned above, hawking seemingly in 

 company with Swifts and Swallows during the bright glare of a 

 summer afternoon ; but most frequently it spends the day either 

 resting on the ground among heath or ferns or on the branch of a 

 tree, always (according to Yarrell and others) crouching close down 

 upon it, in the line of the limb, and not across it. When perched 

 on the ground it lies very close, ' not rising (a French author says) 

 until the dogs are almost on it, but worth shooting in September '. 

 The poet Wordsworth, whose opportunities of watching the Nightjar 

 in its haunts must have been numerous, knew that the whirring 

 note is an accompaniment of the chase : 



The busy Dor-Hawk chases the white moth 

 With burring note 



The burring Dor-Hawk round and round is wheeling : 



That solitary bird 



Is all that can be heard 

 In silence, deeper far than deepest noon. 



One point in the economy of the Nightjar is still disputed (1908) 



