Common Nighthawk, Wantage

The internet is awash with posts similar to the one I am writing here today. Still, it has to be done! It was one of those special days which one will always remember, one of those "do you remember the time when..." sort of days that will be talked about with reverence throughout the years. This is how it was from my perspective.

It was a Monday morning. With nothing more I was ambling around the Trap Grounds, part of my Port Meadow patch. The previous day a Yellow-browed Warbler had been found there. Whilst this species is no longer the rarity it used to be, inland ones are still pretty rare and this bird is almost certainly a shoe-in for Port Meadow Bird of the Year. It had not been seen or heard at all this morning so far but the weather was nice and I was enjoying wandering around and winkling out the various species that inhabit the area, hoping that I might re-find this rare warbler. Suddenly my phone range - it was Ian Lewington, the esteemed Oxon county recorder. 

"Hi Ian, how are you?"

"I'm find thanks, are you sitting down?"

Confused at this opening sentence I mumbled something about being out and about in the Trap Grounds.

"It's just that I'm standing a few yards from a Common Nighthawk in Wantage"

"Crickey!" (or words to that effect). 

I immediately started to hurry back towards my house whilst talking to Ian. At this point I met PB, these days a stalwart Port Meadow patch worker and finder of yesterday's YBW. 

"Hi Phil, follow me now! You won't regret it!" 

On the way, Ian explained that the bird was roosting on someone's fence in their garden and that he needed people to marshal the twitch and was I available. Fortunately I had nothing on until later in the afternoon when I had a therapy client. Ian said not to put the word out yet as he would handle that. 

PB and I hurried up the road back to my house. There I quickly nipped in to pick up the car keys and to tell my VLW that I was off to Wantage for a rare bird. She is used to this sort of behaviour and just rolled her eyes.

PB and I bundled into the car and set off. The Sat Nav was saying a nerve wracking 30 minutes to get there. Whilst a roosting Nighthawk should stay put for the whole day one never knew if something might flush it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity so the stakes were extremely high. We fretted through each red traffic light and an unloading lorry that blocked the road. The news dropped on the county WhatsApp and also on RBA - the word was out and panic would be breaking out across the country's birders as they started to make plans. Finally we arrived to see Ian standing outside the house in question. We bundled out of the car and met up with him. He introduced us to the owner who ushered us into his house, took a tenner off each of us for the privilege and then took us through to the back garden. There, half way down the fence on the left hand side was a rather unremarkable bundle of brown feathers. A quick glance through the bins however and the full enormity of what we were looking at became apparent. Holy f*ck! There it was! I quickly took some photos but we didn't really have time to let what we were seeing as we had to get things set up ready for the twitch. 

My first glimpse from the garden

The garden could hold no more than perhaps five people at a time. We arranged a barrier across the back so people didn't get too close but the logistics of having a queue and letting five people in at a time was going to be a nightmare. Fortunately however, after chatting with Ian it seemed that the views from the other side of the fence were just as good and as the house in question was the end of a terrace this was a public cul-de-sac. So rather than marshalling people through the house they could all view from the road instead. This was going to be much easier!

The view from the other side of the fence - you can see the long primary projection and the pale primary tips that make it a juvenile

Having sorted all that out it was time to catch our breath. So far there were just half a dozen local birders there, the appointed marshals for the twitch. Ian explained exactly what had happened that morning: the home owner had spotted the bird on his fence and had called the local animal hospital saying that he had a sick bird in his garden which wasn't moving. The hospital had called Ian who called the owner back. The owner said that he thought it was a Nightjar but it was sick. Ian explained that actually this is what Nightjars do during the day but could he come and have a look as a Nightjar is a rare bird in Oxfordshire. The owner was happy for Ian to pop round. When Ian arrived he took one look at it and his jaw dropped. It was a Common Nighthawk!!! As a bird illustrator, Ian had been working on this very species just two weeks previously so he knew exactly what the diagnostic features were. Ian explained to the owner that it wasn't a Nightjar. The owner's disappointment at this news was soon tempered by the enormity of what it actually was. Ian explained that there would be a lot of people who would come to see this if he were willing and that he could raise money for charity by opening up his house to visitors. The case of the Rufous Turtle Dove in Chipping Norton was cited where hundreds of people had visited. Surprisingly, the owner was happy for this to happen and so the twitch was on!

Some video footage showing it shuffling around, courtesy of Badger

So just how rare is a Common Nighthawk? There have been 26 previous records in the country. Of these about half of them have been on the Isles of Scilly. On the mainland records are usually fleeting glimpses of birds on the coast, often coming "in off" and never twitchable. The last twitchable one had been in Northern Ireland - not a part of the country that personally is included in my listing. Inland birds are almost unheard of and an inland twitchable bird was unprecedented. This was certainly a contender for Best Oxfordshire Bird Ever, along with Baltimore Oriel (before my time), Rufous Turtle Dove (which I saw) and Scops Owl (also before my time). Exactly how one would rank them is the topic for many a good pub night but it was right up there in terms of rarity value.

I had hitherto had no reason to learn the subtleties of the differences between a Nighthawk and a Nightjar - it had never been an issue up until now. However a quick glance at my Collins iPhone app reveals that the length of the primaries which jutted out beyond the tail were diagnostic for Nighthawk. In flight of course there is the forked tail but in its sitting position the primary projection was the main feature. The pale tips to the primary tips indicated that this was a juvenile.

The Nighthawk location. If you squint you can just see it sitting on the fence behind the red Audi
(photo courtesy of Ewan Urquhart)

Gradually the first locals started to arrive. This was a good opportunity to catch up with the locals and have a good natter. Badger diplomatically managed the collection bucket, I made sure people parked sensibly and that no one tried to nip past the bucket and in general it all went smoothly. The home owner, freed up from having to usher people in through his house, busied himself making cups of tea and letting the marshals use his toilet.

Numbers starting to build

Once things had settled down I nipped off to Sainsbury's to get some lunch for myself before returning to resume helping out. Gradually as the afternoon wore on numbers started to build as people from further afield started to arrive. At one stage it was starting to get quite crowded along the cul-de-sac so Ian had to go and ask people who had seen the bird not to linger there chatting in order to make way for people who had yet to see it. Enough people complied with this for the numbers always to be manageable. Eventually it became time for me to head off for my therapy client appointment back home. I was told that the bird stayed until just before 7pm when it suddenly took off, did a couple of circuits around the area before flying off strongly to the south. 

Numbers starting to build in the afternoon

With there being not much to hold the bird there (no obvious congregation of moths for example), as expected there was no sign of it the next day. For those who had been able to make it, it was the stuff that birding dreams are made of - I still can't quite believe it myself. For those who were away in Shetland at the time (some of the county's finest) it can only be heart-breaking to contemplate. Such is the double-edged sword of birding! All I can say is that I will always remember this day.

From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that raises his bins with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen of England now in Shetland
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That were in Wantage upon this day.

(with apologies to the Bard for the bastardisation of his great work)

Was it all just a dream?