A night to savour.

Another fine sunny day, and I discovered that we have Solomon's Seal Sawfly on our (you've guessed it) Solomn's Seal. CharlieB kindly identified said critters, which do exactly as it says on the tin, happily munching their way through the leaves of the poor plant.

This evening, once the boys were all safely tucked up in bed, I decided to lone it to the forest in search of nightjars. There's a really good spot about a ten minute drive away, near West Stow, and having seen a tawny owl swoop across the road en route by around 9:45 I had parked and started to make my way along the forest track. A single muntjac nonchelantly wandered into the undergrowth ahead of me, and already I could hear the unmistakeable sound of a churring nightjar on the edge of a belt of old pine trees. As I approached the bird fell silent so I carried on along the side of a plantation of pine trees around 15 feet tall, bordered on two sides by much larger and older trees, both pine and deciduous. Ahead of me a family of five roe deer watched warily as I approached and although I stopped, they didn't hang around for long. In the declining light another owl flew and landed halfway up a small birch tree. I didn't have any bins with me but it looked a bit on the small side for a tawny, but a tad big for a little owl. Still, I reckon probably a small tawny. A roding woodcock tempted me back the way I had come and, retracing my steps along the side of the plantation, I realised I was on a regular flight path for bats. Small ones, which I presume were pipistrelles, were joined by much larger ones which I couldn't identify. It was a challenge to try and photograph them in poor light, when the autofocus doesn't want to play ball and they move so quickly anyway. Last year we went on a bat walk at Lackford Lakes with the boys, where we used bat detectors. These pick up the bats' calls and from the frequency of the calls the bats can be identified. I could have done with one tonight. Oh well, I've popped a couple of poor photos on the forum to see what they might yield.
By now the nightjar was upping his game, and I heard his churring descend to bubbling before the familiar wing clapping, and I knew he was on the move. I positioned myself halfway along a path that cut through the middle of the plantation and waited. I set my tripod up at full height in the middle of the path and crowched with camera at in the undergrowth, in the vain hope that the bird might decide to perch on the tripod. Before long two birds flew slowly overhead and a short while later a solitary bird passed right above me. I stayed in situ, waiting for a miracle and a while later one returned and circled round once before flying off. Still I waited and then just before eleven one came back, circled, hovered just off camera, flitted past and settled down on the path about twenty feet away. I slowly moved to see if I could get a shot, knowing I would only have one chance, guessed the distance and pressed the shutter release. The bird took off, circled round a couple more times and away. Not a brilliant photo, but a brilliant experience nonetheless.