h."

"Well he has, whether you've noticed it or not," retorted Jenny Wren
sharply. "He's got a little bit of a bill, but a great big mouth. I
don't see what folks call him a Hawk for when he isn't a Hawk at all. He
is no more of a Hawk than I am, and goodness knows I'm not even related
to the Hawk family."

"I believe you told me the other day that Boomer is related to Sooty the
Chimney Swift," said Peter.

Jenny nodded vigorously. "So I did, Peter," she replied. "I'm glad you
have such a good memory. Boomer and Sooty are sort of second cousins.
There is Boomer now, way up in the sky. I do wish he'd dive and scare
some one else."

Peter tipped his head 'way back. High up in the blue, blue sky was
a bird which at that distance looked something like a much overgrown
Swallow. He was circling and darting about this way and that. Even while
Peter watched he half closed his wings and shot down with such speed
that Peter actually held his breath. It looked very, very much as if
Boomer would dash himself to pieces. Just before he reached the earth he
suddenly opened those wings and turned upward. At the instant he turned,
the booming sound which had so startled Peter was heard. It was made by
the rushing of the wind through the larger feathers of his wings as he
checked himself.

In this dive Boomer had come near enough for Peter to get a good look
at him. His coat seemed to be a mixture of brown and gray, very soft
looking. His wings were brown with a patch of white on each. There was a
white patch on his throat and a band of white near the end of his tail.

"He's rather handsome, don't you think?" asked Jenny Wren.

"He certainly is," replied Peter. "Do you happen to know what kind of a
nest the Nighthawks build, Jenny?"

"They don't build any." Jenny Wren was a picture of scorn as she said
this. "They don't built any nests at all. It can't be because they are
lazy for I don't know of any birds that hunt harder for their living
than do Boomer and Mrs. Boomer."

"But if there isn't any nest where does Mrs. Boomer lay her eggs?" cried
Peter. "I think you must be mistaken, Jenny Wren. They must have some
kind of a nest. Of course they must."

"Didn't I say they don't have a nest?" sputtered Jenny. "Mrs. Nighthawk
doesn't lay but two eggs, anyway. Perhaps she thinks it isn't worth
while building a nest for just two eggs. Anyway, she lays them on the
ground or on a flat rock and lets it go at that. She isn't quite as b