Migration of Nighthawks and Chimney Swifts

As summer slips away, one of the first nesting birds of New England to begin its southward journey is the common nighthawk. This bird is not a member of the hawk family that preys on small animals, but it does 'hawk' its food. The word hawk is descended from the same old Anglo Saxon word that the verb 'have' comes from, and means to seize or grasp.

All the hawks seize their prey with their powerful feet, but the nighthawk has very weak feet and grasps its food with its mouth while flying, an amazing feat if you think about it. Its bill is very small, but its mouth is enormous, hinged well back under its ears and opening wide to sweep insects in as it flies through the air.

If you are out in the back yard in the evening, you know that mosquitoes are most active then, as are many insects. This is when the nighthawk makes its big move, flocks of them taking to the air and gorging on winged ants and any other flying morsel they encounter.

There is a group of birds (the order macrochires) that share this attribute of poorly developed feet, and the nighthawk is a member of a family within this group whose English name is odd indeed, goatsucker. The goatsuckers all have large mouths and got their name from a silly legend that they steal the milk of mother goats at night. Perhaps the legend arose because their mouths open wide enough to suckle, and they sometimes swirl around a herd of livestock, hawking the insects disturbed by the animals' hooves.

The larger group of birds also shares something else. The scientific name for the order, macrochires, means large hands, and the outer wings of the nighthawk are the hands of a master flyer. You can watch them now in the late summer evening, especially when it is calm and warm, filling the sky sometimes by the hundreds, showing off these marvelous hands.

The bird's primary color is a finely barred black and pale gray, but as if to draw attention to those special wings, the nighthawk boasts a broad streak of white on the wrist, only halfway down the wing. This patch of white divides the long arms from the even longer hands, and those arms and hands do such daring feats that devils or aviators would envy.

On a steady course, the wing beat is deep and loose, but the nighthawk can turn on a gnat with a side slip and a flutter, tracking down an elusive bug. It will glide for a few seconds, descending gently, then rise up swiftly with several stiff beats.

Hundreds can circle over a field for an hour or more, swooping their big bodies in flawless precision around and between each other, until the onlooker is amazed and slightly dazed. The millions of flying ants are diminished, and when the sun sets and the air cools, the nighthawks rise into the heights and set a straight course for the equator and beyond.

With them might be the sporty speedsters of this clan of big handed birds, the chimney swifts, faster even than a falcon in a dive. The swifts are no bigger than the hand of a nighthawk, but they maneuver with equal ease, turning, gliding and accelerating like a Porsche on a mountain road.

The hands of a swift are nearly as large as its body, which is shaped like a tiny torpedo. When night finally falls, a flock of swifts will make one last circle over a small city, then free fall one after another like bombers on a suicide strafe. Only they know what happens when they disappear into the towering maw of a chimney, but in the dawn they are shot out, escaping unhurt to greet the day and cruise the skies.

Would you like to know the one other member of this order of super handed birds that fills our summer skies with acrobatic feats? It is none other than the ruby-throated hummingbird, as big as the hand of a swift, yet whose powers of flight need volumes to properly portray. Watch for all the magical macrochires, now on their way to our southern sister continent.