Field Notes
The first time you hear a nightjar churring, it is easy to mistake it for something mechanical. The sound is a sustained, dry purr that rises and falls slightly in pitch, like a distant engine idling somewhere in the heather. It carries surprisingly far on a still evening, and it can take a while to convince yourself that a bird is making it. But once you learn it, the churring becomes one of the most evocative sounds of late spring and early summer in the heathlands and open woodlands where these birds breed.
Nightjars arrive back in their breeding grounds from Africa in late April and May, and the males typically begin churring soon after. The song is delivered from a favoured perch, often a horizontal branch or a low stump, and a male may return to the same spot night after night. If you find a churring bird early in the season, it is worth noting the exact perch in your journal. Come back a week later and there is a good chance he will still be using it, which makes him much easier to watch as the light fades.
The best time to listen is the half hour around dusk, though nightjars will also churr in the hour before dawn and occasionally through the night. On warm, still evenings with little wind, the sound travels further and the birds seem more willing to perform. Cold, wet or breezy nights tend to suppress activity. I like to arrive at a site while there is still enough light to find my way, settle somewhere comfortable with a clear view of the open sky, and then simply wait as the light drains away.
Patience is everything with nightjars. They are masters of concealment during the day, their mottled grey-brown plumage blending almost perfectly with leaf litter and dead bracken. At dusk they become far more visible, especially when they fly. Watch for a long-tailed, falcon-like silhouette flicking through the treeline, or a bird perched on a branch with its white wing patches and throat spots catching the last of the light.
In your journal, try to describe the churring in your own words rather than just naming it. Is it steady or does it pulse? Does it stop abruptly when the bird flies, then resume from a new perch? Note the time of the first churr, how long it lasts, and any pauses. These small details build a picture over the season, and you will start to notice patterns: how activity changes with the weather, how it tails off as the nights shorten, and when the last churring of the year finally fades.
The first churring of the year is always a small event worth recording. It marks the return of a bird that most people will never see, singing in the half-light at the edge of the woods. Write it down, date it, and you have a marker of the season that no calendar can quite replace.
