SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



177 



HABITS OF THE NIGHTJAR. 

 By David J. Kick. 



T^HAT the nightjar (Caprimidgus europaus) should 

 be deemed an uncanny bird is not to be 

 wondered at. Its nocturnal habits and its two 

 peculiarly distinctive notes — the one a prolonged 

 and monotonous rattle, the other a sharp eirie cry 

 difficult to describe, but having somewhat the 

 sound of Wi-ep — alone places it in an especial 

 position ; whilst its noiseless flight and curious 

 habit of perching lengthwise along a branch adds 

 still further interest to the curious creature. Then 

 again, unlike most other birds, the nightjar makes 

 no pretence at a nest, but simply chooses a bare 

 piece of ground, sometimes taking advantage of a 

 slight natural depression, and there, surrounded by 

 heather and quite open to the elements, lays its eggs. 

 They are always two in number, oval in shape, with 

 very beautiful markings. The ground colour of the 

 egg is of a whitish character, and is splashed 

 irregularly with blotches varying from a faint 

 purple-grey, which appears to assimilate some- 

 what with the ground colour, to burnt umber, the 

 last colour being most pronounced and apparently 

 deposited very shortly before the egg is laid. The 

 whole effect recalls a piece of marble of a certain 

 kind, and has a highly polished surface. There are 

 often pieces of weathered stone lying about near 

 the eggs, and unless one is quite familiar with 

 them they might be easily passed unnoticed. The 

 eggs are quite distinct and cannot be confused with 

 those of any other British bird. 



A short time since I had an opportunity of 

 observing the bird with its young. Walking 

 across a heather-clad common, something suddenly 

 flapped up before me evidently in the last stage of 

 decrepitude. My brother, who was with me, tried 

 to capture the creature by falling on it, but it 

 managed to flutter just beyond his reach with 

 apparent effort. After pursuing the chase for 

 some distance, the nightjar (for such it was) rose 

 suddenly, and, flying off rapidly, disappeared 

 among some Scotch firs near by. I had remained 

 watching the pursuit, and after the bird had gone 

 I looked around and saw almost at my feet a 

 young nightjar sitting motionless on the ground, 

 among some pieces of egg-shell and a few whitish 

 stones. I picked it up, but it did not exhibit 

 any sign of life, although I turned it about in 

 my hand, and had I not felt the warmth of its 

 body I should have been tempted to believe 

 it dead. I restored it to its original position, and 

 left it. The next day I revisited the place, and, by 

 creeping cautiously, obtained an excellent view of 

 the mother bird, whose plumage formed a perfect 

 harmony with its surroundings, and was only 



betrayed by the brightness of its rich brown eyes. 

 On my attempting a nearer approach the bird 

 again fluttered off as before described, but this 

 time I kept a sharp eye on the place from which 

 it started. The young bird was still there, and I 

 also became aware of another one about eighteen 

 inches away, some low branches of a small fir 

 dividing the two, whilst there was a distinct run 

 on the ground between them, evidently planned by 

 the parent bird to lessen the danger of discovery, 

 the two being parted immediately a cause rendered 

 it necessary. I was greatly interested, as on the 

 former occasion I had only seen the one young bird. 



The following day I again visited the spot, and 

 this time the birds were nowhere to be seen. I 

 searched carefully, and discovered the two young 

 ones together some four yards away from the place 

 where they were hatched. On taking one up the 

 mother bird came flying round, and endeavoured 

 to draw me on by its former tactics of feigning 

 helplessness. I put the birds down again, when the 

 parent bird flew immediately above me, uttering a 

 sound very like the "cluck, cluck, cluck," that the 

 domestic fowl use; when calling her chicks together. 

 The young birds, on hearing it, squatted closely, 

 and became quite rigid. I retired a little distance 

 to await events, but finding the mother bird did 

 not return, I went to take a final view of the young 

 ones, but they had disappeared completely. I 

 looked around in vain, and at last decided on 

 making a more careful scrutiny. I went down on 

 my hands and knees, and searched every inch of 

 the ground. After about twenty minutes I came 

 upon one of the birds squatting against a piece of 

 heather, and a better case of protective coloration 

 it would be impossible to imagine. The plumage 

 of the bird harmonised so perfectly with its sur- 

 roundings of lichens and heather that hardly any- 

 thing short of actual handling would have enabled 

 it to have been discovered. I continued my search 

 for the other for fully an hour . but although I 

 knew exactly what I was looking for, I failed to 

 find it, and finally left, wondering only that the night- 

 jar, with its marvellous perfection of safe-guards, 

 should be as comparatively scarce a bird as it is. 



This season seems to have been a particularly 

 good one for the nightjar, it having been fairly 

 plentiful in thisdistrict which is very suitable to its 

 habits. It was in finest condition towards the end 

 of June, but from that time it has gradually 

 decreased in numbers. It appears to me that the 

 males are the first to leave. Can any of the 

 readers of Science-Gossip confirm this opinion ? 

 Squire's Farm, Westcott, Surrey ; A itg., 1895. 



