Nightjar

(Definitely best viewed large!)

It’s stopped raining, the sun’s out, and the pain that’s plagued me for the last few days seems to have vanished. We head out for the bird sanctuary.

‘Have you come to see the nightjar?’ asks the enthusiastic RSPB volunteer as we check in. We’re used to announcements of ‘special visitors’ at bird reserves, but as new birders, we often just nod and try to look suitably enthusiastic. This time, I’m honest. I don’t even know what one looks like I admit. Clearly at this point we should be jumping up and down with sheer joy and disbelief. Patiently, he shows me an illustration of an intricately marked squat brown bird. Apparently, it’s sleeping on the back of a plastic heron - yes really - near one of the willow screens. 

First time round, we miss it, but by the time we return some five minutes later, it’s very clear where the nightjar is. There are already photographers in place, alerted by a Twitter announcement. Sure enough, there it is roosting on the heron’s back. Unfortunately, the spring grass growth means peering at it through the blades. Getting a clear shot from any angle is impossible, but from one point I can get a clear view of its face. Even with spot focusing, I need to turn to manual; the breeze is blowing the blades too much. 

And what a strange bird this is. Pressed flat against the heron’s back, it seems almost toad-like, its brownish markings doing nothing to challenge this impression. It’s easy to see why they are so difficult to spot, camouflaged against the logs and vegetation of the conifer plantations and heathlands usually their home. 

By now, word has clearly got around, and more and more arrivals trudge along the path weighed down by tripods, telescopes and zooms. Clearly this mysterious creature is not going to move, so having got my precious shots, I move on.  

And not only do I have this unique capture, but our visit offers more - flowers, ponies, a gorgeous blue butterfly (a common blue?) and a wheatear - another first for us. (In extras)

Back home, I research more about today’s exciting sighting. So many myths exist about the nightjar - so many strange names: goatsucker (so-called as it was thought to take milk from the udders of goats), Flying-Toad, Moth-Owl, Corpse-Fowl .....

I’m beginning to realise just what a privilege this has been.  

Lots more in the link below: 


http://the-history-girls.blogspot.com/2013/05/nightjar-aka-goatsucker-by-jane-borodale.html




And finally, a poem by Ted Hughes 

The Nightjar

The tree creeps on its knees.
The dead branch aims, in the last light.
The cat-bird is telescopic.
The sun’s escape
Shudders shot
By wings of ashes.
The moon falls, with all its moths,
Into a bird’s face.
Stars spark 
From the rasp of its cry.
Till the moon-eater, cooling,
Yawns dawn
And sleeps bark.