I can’t resist mentioning with a smidgen of pride that the nightjar has returned to the hill behind the house. Perhaps it means little to most people who have never heard of such an queer bird, but I find a real kudos and excitement to sharing my home with a creature so bizarre, obscure and un-birdlike. My wife and I went out last night at 10:30 and caught phrases of churring song between the chirrup and groan of roding woodcock. Bats flickered overhead between the lacy larch needles and I was swooning with excitement.
I have (or at least I think I have) a really nice idea for a painting of a nightjar, but I am buried with all kinds of writing and painting projects at the moment and it is probably towards the bottom of the pile. I will make a point of spending some time in the blue, buzzing world of nightjarland over the next few weeks and try to make time for this amongst so many others.
Nightjars are the last in a long list of spring arrivals which mean it’s now summer, well and truly.