It’s become an annual pilgrimage. An appointment with magic. This year’s venue is Thursley Common in Surrey. It’s off my usual urban patch, but when you want a nightjar encounter it’s no use roaming the streets of West Norwood. What these scarce summer migrants like is a heath or a woodland clearing, not a B&Q car park.
Nightjars have a special appeal. Partly it’s the allure of the crepuscular. Glimpses of a shadowy half-world, admission by invitation and secret password only.
