Notices of New Books. 



8503 



by a leader, they all take flight to another tree, or after a short evolu- 

 tion return to the same from which they started. Should it happen 

 that while one little band is occupied in despoiling a tree another is 

 heard in the air, the latter is immediately invited by general accla- 

 mation to take part in the banquet, and rarely fails to accept the 

 invitation. Owing to this sociability of character they are easily 

 entrapped, provided that one of their own species be employed as a 

 decoy bird."— (P. 214). 



" The Nightjar. — The bird itself is perfectly inoffensive, singular 

 in form and habits, though rarely seen alive near enough for its pecu- 

 liarities of form and colour {o be observed. Its note, however, is 

 familiar enough to persons who are in the habit of being out late at 

 night in such parts of the country as it frequents. The silence of the 

 evening or midnight walk in June is occasionally broken by a deep 

 whirring noise which seemingly proceeds from the lower bough of a 

 tree, a hedge or a paling. Having in it nothing of a chirp, warble or 

 whistle, it is unlike the note of a bird, or indeed any natural sound, 

 but most resembles the humming of a wheel in rapid revolution. 

 Mr. Bell informs me that it is so like the croak of a natterjack toad 

 that he has more than once doubted from which of the two sound 

 proceeded. It is nearly monotonous, but not quite so, as it occasion- 

 ally rises or falls about a quarter of a note, and appears to increase 

 and diminish in loudness. Nor does it seem to proceed continuously 

 from exactly the same spot, but to vary its position, as if the performer 

 were either a ventriloquist or were actually shifting its ground. For- 

 tunate observers have been able to creep up close enough to make out 

 that the bird perches with its feet resting lengthwise on a branch, its 

 claws not being adapted for grasping, and turns its head from side to 

 side, thus throwing the sound as it were in various directions, and pro- 

 ducing the same effect as if it proceeded from different places. I have 

 repeatedly worked my 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 1 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 

 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 



