At last, we have had a couple of days of warm, dry weather, with still evenings warm enough to get out into the Forest. So, Christine and I spent the first Saturday evening in June searching for nightjars, within walking distance of our home in Frogham. There were plenty of deer about, and we had great views of a spectacular sunset, but it wasn't until the light faded to that strange gloaming when everything turns monochrome, around twenty minutes later, that we heard what we were listening for. The eerie, constant drone of a churring nightjar, the pitch rising and falling as it moves. In the deep heather, by the edge of the wood, just where the moths were beginning to fly, the sound resonated, and was answered by another, then an third, more distant. One of the oddest of our summer migrants, the nightjar's nocturnal habits are so mysterious that it acquired the name "goat sucker", and was accused of souring cow's milk. Its carpet bag camouflage is so good that I have never seen one during the day, but we did have a brief glimpse of one flying quickly over the heather, like a giant moth itself. As we waited and listened, the churring was replaced by the drumming of snipe, invisible in the dark sky, but twirling stiff feathers near its tail to create another bizarre and haunting night noise. So - if you fancy joining us on one of these walks, get in touch, and see the Home Page for more details.
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