It was a year ago that I became a laughingstock.

Let me explain. Because birding keeps you attuned to the seasons like no other hobby, birders, by now, have been tallying the signs of oncoming autumn for weeks.

Shorebirds are moving; ruby-throated hummingbirds are showing signs of heading south, and it won't be long till we see bald eagles overhead.

And last year at this time, as usual, I began my "pre-season warm-up" to the hawk watch with nightly vigils for migrating nighthawks.

Known to some as "bullbats," the birds are neither bats nor hawks, but closely related to whippoorwills and chuck-will's-widows. Though not as numerous as they once were, they still put on astounding mass flying circuses in the late summer twilight.

Usually gathering over large flat areas like pastures and grassy fields, the birds swoop and dive for insects in wild mobs that can number in the thousands.

So how did I get to be a joke among southwest Virginia birders?

To make a long story short, by consistently managing to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The previous year, I'd been among the earliest to report the onset of the annual show, and I wanted to repeat the feat last year. And it seemed I was off to a good start when I spotted an early flight at Alta Mons near Shawsville.

But after that, nothing. I would sit in the dusk every night and notch one or two or three birds for three hours of watching. Other observers were seeing nighthawks in the hundreds and thousands.

I tried changing sites. I moved from my "home" site at Adney Gap on the Blue Ridge Parkway to other spots. I resorted to driving through Franklin County in the evenings. When thousands were reported south of Hillsville one evening, I was there the next night -- and saw three birds.

Then came the sympathetic messages on the various Internet birding lists I report to.

"Maybe you should try such-and-such a spot," they'd write.

"Don't worry, as long as you're persistent, you'll finally strike gold," they said.

The undertone of pity was palpable. I could almost see them shaking their heads.

"Yes, poor Seth. Commendable enthusiasm, but strictly limited in birding talent. Sad case."

I finally saw a few decent flights in September, after I was about 10,000 birds behind everybody else.

My Slings Gap neighbors Peter and Jenny Chapman began joining me at Adney Gap and brought good luck with them. We finally had a few good nights to end my humiliation.

To celebrate the end of summer, you can't do better than crown your day with a stupendous nighthawk aerial circus. Big pastures and fields are prime spots. But if you don't want to drive out into the country, you can see respectable displays at shopping centers and ballparks where artificial light attracts flying insects, which in turn attract the nighthawks.

But if you see a spectacular show, don't tell me. After last year's disaster, I just don't want to know.