Nighthawks and Pauraques
Nighthawks are among the birds of my childhood. Their “buick buick” calls at dusk, the quick wingbeats followed by a glide, remind me of warm Southern nights. I remember being outside when it was nearly dark, and a nighthawk flew past my head.
I took off after it in my bare feet. (My feet were perpetually black in summer from running on pavement). Read the rest of this entry »