150 BIRDS 



ring, booming sound that one hears on still su mm er 

 evenings, as though wind were blowing across the bung- 

 hole of an empty barrel. The bird is such a high flyer, 

 that in the dusk of the late afternoon, when he delights to 

 sail abroad to get his dinner, one cannot always see him; 

 but as he coasts down from the sky on his half -closed wings 

 with tremendous speed, the rush of air through his stiff, 

 long wing feathers makes an uncanny, aeolian music that 

 superstitious people have declared is a bad omen. One 

 might think he would dash out his brains in such a head- 

 long dive through the air, but before he hits the earth, a 

 sudden turn saves him and off he goes unharmed, skim- 

 ming above the ground and catching insects after the 

 whippoorwill's manner. He lacks the helpful bristles at 

 the ends of his fly-trap. He is not so nocturnal in his 

 habits as the whippoorwill. Toward the end of sum- 

 mer, especially, he may be seen coursing over the open 

 country at almost any hour of the day. Once in a whfle, 

 as he hunts, he calls feent — a sharp cry that reminds one 

 of the meadow-lark's nasal call-note. Presently, mounting 

 upward higher and higher, he seems to reach the very 

 clouds, when down he coasts again, booming as he de- 

 scends. Evidently he enjoys the sport as much as any 

 schoolboy might for he repeats his sky-coasting very often 

 without having to wait for a snow-storm. Indeed, when 

 winter comes, he is enjoying another summer in South 

 America. Life without insects would be impossible for 

 him. 



Like the mother whippoorwill the night-hawk makes 

 no nest but places her two speckled treasures in some 

 sunny spot, either on the bare ground, on a rock, or 

 even on the flat roof of a house. Since electric lights at- 



