Judging by the comments last week’s crane fly column generated, folks in the TriCities don’t particularly care to read about “larvae” over breakfast, nor “maggots” during lunch. And I apparently misjudged people’s appreciation for flies in general. So, this week, let’s take a look at the other end of the food chain—creatures that eat flies, and lots of other insects too: Nighthawks.
No, not the men and woman depicted in the Edward Hopper classic (although, judging by the grim looks on their faces, those people might well have been served something with bugs in it…) What we’re talking about here are common nighthawks, Chordeiles minor, some of the finest insect eaters in the summer evening skies.
I recently became reacquainted with this charming bird in, of all places, a parking lot on Randall Road. Coming out of Borders in Geneva after an aborted book-shopping trip (I could’ve sworn they were open later than 9 on weeknights) I heard a sound that seemed very familiar. Peent! Yet, try as I might, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Peent!
I stopped in my tracks and listened, mentally blowing the dust off some memories that dated back at least a year. Summer…nighttime…nasal-sounding call… Peent! It took another few seconds, during which my eyes glanced skyward, and there—aha! The mystery callers swooped back and forth, and I had my answer.
Nighthawks are the sort of bird that birders refer to as “unmistakable.” Although their coloration is for the most part a mottled brown-gray, they have white bars near the base of their primary wing feathers. These bright marks show even at night, making nighthawks instantly recognizable—my favorite kind of bird to identify!
But as conspicuous as these birds are from a distance, very few people know what they look like close up. If you haven’t seen a picture of a nighthawk, pick up a bird field guide or head for the Internet. Then, I dare you, see if you can look at the image and not go, “Awww!”
Even people not into birds have been known to admit, nighthawks are just darn cute. For one thing, they’re somewhat plump—surprisingly so, given their agility in the air. Also, as members of the Caprimulgidae, or Goatsucker, family, they have large, winsome eyes that they tend to squint in daylight. The resulting effect is that of a distinguished baby, youthful yet Yoda-like all at once.
The nighthawk’s mouth, by the way, looks deceptively small in pictures. In real life, it can gape widely—all the better to capture flying insects, which make up 100% of this helpful bird’s diet.
The gaping mouth is also responsible for the bird’s odd family name, Goatsucker. At one time, back before people realized birds don’t drink milk, it was thought that this avian group used their large mouths to grab onto goat teats and…well, you get the picture.
Depending on who you talk to, the nighthawk’s common name can also be a bit of a misnomer. Nighthawks are considered by some experts to be crepuscular, or most active at dawn and dusk, as opposed to nocturnal, active primarily at night.
Even so, due to the profuse night-time light in our area, nighthawks frequently can be seen well after dark, foraging for insects above our downtown areas, along the river and over parking lots—like the one at Borders.
If you enjoy spending summer nights outdoors, put nighthawks on your list of things to watch. They’ll be around for a while yet before embarking on their fall migration, a journey that may take them as far as northern Argentina.
Listen for the Peent! and look for the white wing bars, then sit back and enjoy their amazing aerial maneuvers. I’ll bet you’ll soon become a fan of these fascinating birds…especially if you’re a night, um, owl.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.