The Bird that Whips Poor Will 



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'HEN the sun has disappeared so long 

 that only ruddy lines athwart the 

 west remain to show where it has set, 

 and a darkness as of velvet pours slowly into 

 the hollows of the landscape, then suddenly there 

 springs from the warm gloom of the hillside 

 the cry of the whip-poor-will, loud, vivid and 

 challenging. At first you may hear only a sin- 

 gle uncertain call, repeated now here, now there ; 

 but soon the bird settles upon a place that suits 

 him and begins his song in earnest, chanting 

 steadily while the darkness deepens. 



This eerie cry is a characteristic note of sum- 

 mer throughout the eastern United States. 

 Wintering silent and secluded in the warm re- 

 gions bordering upon the Gulf of Mexico, the 

 shy bird gladly turns homeward from its exile 

 as spring returns, and steals north, always by 

 short night-journeys, as fast as insect-life 

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