Slaley Forest. Nightjars and Atmosphere.

 Welcome sweet eve thy gently sloping sky

& softly whispering wind that breaths of rest

& clouds unlike what daylight galloped bye

Now stopt as weary huddling in the west

Each by the farewell of days closing eye

Left with the smiles of heaven on its breast

From Sunset by John Clare

 Halfway to Hexham on a glorious sunny evening and I realise I had forgotten to change into my boots.  Am I losing my mind or was it the prospect of a great evening that had me focussed?  I like to think it was the latter.  Anyway, there was no turning back, so I was going to have to cope.  We began with a walk along the tree lined River Tyne at Hexham checking out trees and a few plants.  Tree species included Oak, Elm, Lime, Horse Chestnut, Ash, Sycamore, Swedish Whitebeam, Crack Willow and Silver Birch.  From under the shade of the trees we looked out onto a sunlit parkland that had a hint of the African savannah.  Nuthatch and Wren took our eye, Willow Warblers sang, a distant Great Spotted Woodpecker drummed out a beat and a passing sighting of Common Sandpiper was made.  There was a lack of Hirundines, but the occasional Swallow was seen. Mallards were on the river.

By the time we reached Slaley Forest the temperature had dropped by several degrees and there was a chill in the air.  Before setting off we had a bite to eat and I sprayed myself with Avon Skin So Soft to ward of the dreaded insects.  As it turned out the drenching was unnecessary, as few insects were on the wing this evening, but at least I smelt desirable, well I thought so!  We had the forest to ourselves for the evening apart from the accompanying flora and fauna.

Several Song Thrushes sang as we set off along the aromatic forest ride where the grasses were thick and verdant, with yet no sign of the many orchids we had seen last year.  We are usually at least a month later in making this trip.  A Cuckoo called continuously and we spotted it atop of one of the taller trees where it was accompanied by Meadow Pipits.  The calling continued into the evening, but from further and further within the forest.  More Willow Warblers sang and Siskin were heard briefly.

Laid back birders vigil begins.  Travelling light, so all images courtesy of Samuel and his phone.

We were soon at our place of vigil, a perfect spot that we had found last year.  We were able to overlook an open area of the forest with its low dense arid ground cover and the occasional remaining tree stumps of various height.  The anticipation and the view took my mind off how bracing the still air was.  The rounded hills of the Cheviots were to the north of us and edged by a carmine sky.  An occasional and distinctly shaped Woodcock was picked up as the light faded, flying over the treeline to the south of us.  The sky above us was a cerulean blue, changing to turquoise colouring towards the horizon and sunset.  A thin strip of white cloud gradually changed to rouge hue before gradually disappearing as the sun dipped below the horizon.  A lone and silent Curlew flew across the open area from the direction of the moorland and a nearby Tawny Owl give a fleeting ethereal call.  The flaming sky on the horizon gradually changed to more subdued hues of grey and had I not known better I would have thought it had merged into a sea.  A sea which in places appeared calm and flat and in other places having waves thrown high, all an illusion of course, all the greater when viewed through binoculars.   Water appeared to flow towards the Cheviots.  What was not an illusion was the pillow of white smoke lifting from the industrial area in Hexham.

Nightjar Churring

At times, the only sound was the sound of silence, broken only by the occasional bird call and our own quiet chatter.  Then suddenly from the distance and before darkness had fallen came the mechanical and distinctive churring of Nightjar.  Looking at the distant lights from the outskirts of Newcastle City we wondered how many folks sat beside televisions and computer screens this evening would even know that these birds of the night existed in the area.

Hark! There’s that churring noise we heard

And thought it some wild frolic boy;

‘Tis sure enough an unknown bird,

I’ve seldom heard so strange a cry.

From The Fern Owl by John Clare

 

The churring gradually become louder and louder and it became apparent that a Nightjar was close by.  We found it perched and calling from the top of the highest dead tree stump.  I watched it intently whist I waited for it to fly.  The Nightjar did lift, but seemed to have no wish to hunt insects of which there were so few, and quickly dropped to the ground and out of sight.  Sam was on rather higher ground than I was and watched both a Badger and Roe Deer in the vicinity of where the Nightjar had landed.  From this point on there was little to no more churring.  We found this unusual as we usually make home with a churring accompaniment.  Was it the cold, lack of insects or simply the earlier visit we had made?  We were in no way disappointed as we began our return walk as the evening had been a great success.  The plan is to revisit in July.

The torch had been forgotten, but we had no concern as the evening remained clear and light, although by habit I occasionally looked behind in the eerie atmosphere.  Before we were back to the car we heard a Roe Deer barking, watched another Woodcock fly by and enjoyed the company of Common Pipistrelle Bats.  As we prepared to enter the car a Tawny Owl gave some shrieks from almost directly above our heads.

The heater was turned on and our journey home was without incident apart from sightings of a Brown Rat and Rabbit at the roadside, and a fleeting sighting of an owl, probably a Barn Owl.

Once home I made myself a coffee and was soon nodding off with thoughts of what is always one of the year’s birding highlights.

Addendum

Some local names for the Nightjar.  fen owl, fern owl, jar-owl, churn-owl, goat-owl, goatsucker, nighthawk, dorhawk, moth-hawk, wheelbird, eve-chur, eve-jar, puckeridge, puck-bird, gabble-ratch, litch fowl and jenny-spinner.  (The Nightjar-Yesterday and Today/Margaret Grainger and Richard Williamson 1988).