On Heaths and Marshes. 1 1 1 



ing, however, the sleepy bird rouses itself, and, hungry 

 and alert and active enough, leaves its daytime haunt 

 and commences its evening peregrinations in quest 

 of food and enjoyment. As the sun sinks lower 

 behind the western hills and the shadows intensify, 

 the Nightjars become more lively. The most im- 

 pressive thing about them is their curious music. 

 It is a song that appeals to the most casual listener, 

 compelling recognition by its very singularity. 

 Whilst on the wing circling to and fro the note is 

 an oft- repeated cry, resembling the syllables co-ic, 

 co-ic y co-ic\ but when the bird drops lightly down 

 on to some wall or fence or gate, another and still 

 more curious sound is produced. This is the familiar 

 "churring" or vibrating noise, long continued, and 

 putting one in mind of the monotonous reel of the 

 Grasshopper Warbler, so far as its pertinacity is 

 concerned. This latter noise is never heard unless 

 the bird is sitting. The bird also makes another 

 sound whilst in the air, produced by striking its 

 wings smartly together; otherwise the flight of this 

 species is remarkably silent and Owl-like. It is by 

 no means shy, and will hawk for insects round our 

 head, dart to and fro on noiseless pinions, or circle 

 about in chasing and toying with its mate, with little 

 show of fear. The wings of the male bird are 

 marked with three white spots, one on each of the 

 first three primaries, and these are very conspicuous 



