The Bird that Whips Poor Will 



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by leaping after it in short, erratic flights. 

 They have a way of balancing themselves near 

 a tree-trunk or barn-wall, picking ants and 

 other small provender off the bark; and even 

 hunt for worms and beetles on the ground, turn- 

 ing over the leaves to root them out. It is not 

 until their first hunger has been assuaged that 

 one hears that long, steady chanting for which 

 the bird is distinguished, and which, as a sus- 

 tained effort, is perhaps unequaled elsewhere. 



The singer is fond of perching upon a stone, 

 rocky hillsides are favorite resorts, or upon 

 a stump, fence-post or shed-roof. I do not 

 believe he ever sings in the air, though low mur- 

 murings may be heard as he flits past, for he 

 seems to need a solid fulcrum under his feet 

 for the great physical effort his utterance seems 

 to cost. He begins by a sharp, liquid churp! 

 like the plumping of a big drop into a cistern, 

 then swings into his loud monotonous recitative. 



To my ear he does not say " whip-poor-will " 

 at all, yet it is not easy to write down an exact 

 interpretation of the notes. The first syllable 

 is a clear whistle strongly accented and end- 



