178 Birds Every Child Should Know 
he coasts down from the sky — not on a sled, 
but on his half-closed wings — with tremendous 
speed, the rush of air through his stiff, long 
wing feathers makes an uncanny, asolian music 
that silly, superstitious people have declared 
is a bad omen. You might think he would 
dash out his brains in such a headlong dive 
through the air, but before he hits the earth, 
a sudden turn saves him and off he goes un- 
harmed, skimming above the ground and catch- 
ing insects after the whip-poor-will’s manner. 
He lacks the helpful bristles at the ends of his 
fly-trap. Don’t imagine, because of his name, 
that he flies about only at night. He is not 
so nocturnal in his habits as the whip-poor-will. 
Toward the end of summer, especially, he may 
be seen coursing over the open country at 
almost any hour of the day. Once in a while, 
as he hunts, he calls peent — a sharp cry that 
reminds you of the meadowlark’s nasal call- 
note. Presently, mounting upward higher and 
higher, at the leisurely rate of a boy dragging 
his sled up hill, he seems to reach the very 
clouds, when down he coasts again, faster than 
a boy’s flexible flyer. Listen for the booming 
noise of this coaster! Evidently he enjoys the 
sport as much as any boy or girl, 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 
