Another name for the Swift is Black Martin, and in heraldry it is familiarly known as the Martlet, the figure of which is a device of frequent occurrence in heraldic coats of arms, and denotes that the original wearer of the distinction served as a crusader pilgrim. In Arabia it is still known by the name of Hadji, or Pilgrim, to denote its migratory habits.
[1] Livingstone mentions his having seen in the plains north of Kuruman a flock of Swifts, computed to contain upwards of 4,000 individuals.
[2] September, 1856, p. 5249.
FAMILY CAPRIMULGIDÆ
THE NIGHTJAR
CAPRIMÚLGUS EUROP['Æ]US
General plumage ash-grey, spotted and barred with black, brown and reddish brown; first three primaries with a large white patch, on the inner web; two outer tail-feathers on each side tipped with white. Length ten inches and a quarter; breadth twenty-two inches. Eggs whitish, beautifully marbled with brown and ash.
This bird used to be described as a nocturnal robber who finds his way into the goat-pens, sucks the dugs of the goats, poisoning them to such an extent that the animals themselves are blinded, and their udders waste away. This fable we notice in order to account for the strange name Goatsucker, by which it was formerly so well known. The bird has, indeed, strangely enough, been known all over Europe by an equivalent for this name from the earliest times. The bird itself is perfectly inoffensive, singular in form and habits, though rarely seen alive near enough for its peculiarities of form and colour to 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 churr-churr-err which seemingly proceeds from the lower bough of a tree, a hedge, or paling. And a whirring of the wings comes often from their being brought in contact as the birds twist in insect-hunting.[18] The churring is nearly monotonous but not quite so, as it occasionally 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 his ground. 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 producing 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 immediate neighbourhood of my own house, and I 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 again 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 drew near, the bird quitted its perch, flew round me, coming within a few feet of my person, and, on my remaining still, made itself heard from another part of the railing only a few yards behind me. Again and again I dodged it, but always with the same result; I saw it, indeed, several times, but always on the wing. At last a longer interval of silence ensued, and when I heard the sound again it proceeded from a distant hedge which separated the meadow from a common. Here probably its mate was performing the domestic duty of incubation cheered by the dismal ditty of her partner; but I never saw her, though I undertook another nocturnal chase of the musician, hunting him from tree to tree, but never being able to discover his exact position, until the cessation of the sound and the sudden rustling of leaves announced the fact of his having taken his departure.
In the dusk of the evening the Nightjar may commonly be seen hawking for moths and beetles after the manner of the Swallow-tribe, only that the flight is less rapid and more tortuous. I once saw one on the common mentioned above, hawking seemingly in company with Swifts and Swallows during the bright glare of a summer afternoon; but most frequently it spends the day either resting on the ground among heath or ferns or on the branch of a tree, always (according to Yarrell and others) crouching close down upon it, in the line of the limb, and not across it. When perched on the ground it lies very close, 'not rising (a French author says) until the dogs are almost on it, but worth shooting in September'. The poet Wordsworth, whose opportunities of watching the Nightjar in its haunts must have been numerous, knew that the whirring note is an accompaniment of the chase:
The busy Dor-Hawk chases the white moth
With burring note——