The Nightjar

 When I got to Spain, I undertook a protracted multi-day effort to find, see and photograph the nightjars residing in the mountains near to where I was staying. I had seen them before, last year I even managed to get a photo of one, but that photo wasn't particularly good quality, and I needed better, particularly since I had an infinitely more advanced camera now!

Nightjars resemble oversized and incredibly beautiful swallows, although their flight is more characteristic of a raptor. These birds only emerge in the evening, usually after dusk, and only once has I seen them out and about before the sun set. At night, they thrive on a diet of insects which are to be found everywhere in the mountains. The stereotypical nightjar of this region is the red-necked nightjar, the biggest and perhaps the most beautiful European nightjar, although I have heard Eurasian nightjars here, as well. 

And so began my nightjar evenings. The first few times I hung around near the lighthouse and used the tracks in the sierras to cover as much ground as possible. Sometimes, the nightjars were elusive. But sometimes, they flew nearby, one interested individual did a complete orbit around my head at incredibly close range. Using manual focus in these conditions, however, was a challenge, and as a result my first batch of photos wasn't, quality wise, perfect. But one picture in particular really stood out to me, even with the nightjar slightly blurred out. 

This happened because nightjars like to sit on trails in the night. When investigating a singing male, I noticed a piece of wood up ahead, and stopped my bike in time before I flushed it- the piece of wood was a male red-necked nightjar. It was very obliging, and stayed put until I took a photo before it spread its wings and melted into thin air. 

And that's when the easy stuff ended. After that nightjar, it was all blurry and out-of-focus. Compare the above to this 'photo' I got of another singing male:

That, coupled with the very unpleasant business of riding a bike through the darkness, led to me choosing a different location for my explorations. As I returned home, I used a track which was a favoured roost spot of a nightjar which lived outside the forest. Frequenting a patch of rough grass and seemingly having a nest in an abandoned shed, this nightjar often let me get unbelievably close on my bike, and every time I messed up the focus. One time though, I managed to get it in flight:

I observed its behaviour, and made a guess to where its daytime roost was. For another time, perhaps.