The Texas Nighthawk 
The most gifted imagination would scarcely ascribe this geophonic 
serenade to a pair of birds. But the Texas Nighthawks are responsible, 
as any one may learn who has the fortune to stumble upon their eggs at 
nightfall. The hour is important, for were the brooding bird to be dis¬ 
turbed in broad daylight she would merely lift over the sage-brush, flit 
a few yards, plump down again, and that would be the last of it. But 
at dusk there is more activity. The bird retires, indeed, but she summons 
her mate and they set up, at near ranges, always from the ground, that 
quaint batrachian wail, which is intended, no doubt, rather to charm 
than to frighten. Heard at close quarters, the note is again seen to be 
well sustained and nearly continuous, save that it breaks now and then 
to a lower note, apparently while the bird is taking breath. (This sound 
can be passably imitated, I find, by attempting an “Italian A” low and 
soft with the uvula half shut instead of wide open.) But the serenaders 
are ill at ease now. The sound changes abruptly to a staccato complaint, 
an excited clucking, breathlessly interspersed with more musical notes: 
toot toot toot oo dnk ah toot toot ah wank ah toot toot toot oo toot. Both 
birds utter these notes, and as they rise and flit restlessly to and fro, 
or make suggestive passes at the intruder’s head, they sound like flying 
banjos picked by unseen fingers. How unclassifiable these notes really 
are may be guessed from the varied attempts at description already 
Taken in Merced County Photo by the Author 
THE NESTLINGS 
1066 
