112 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



If the wood nymphs obeyed the commands oi' 

 the party who demanded it, "poor Will," who- 

 ever he is, wherever he may be, must have got- 

 ten a devil of a spanking hereabouts last night. 

 Whenever awake I heard the call "whip-poor- 

 will whip-poor-will" fast enough at all times, 

 but often in triple quick time as though the 

 caller were suddenly excited. This very fast 

 call was usually soon followed by a pause of 

 several minutes, then began again the regular 

 note. 



A curious fluffy, loose feathered, mottled 

 brown and sooty black bird this night caller, 

 arriving here from the south as early as April 

 10, seeking the densest thickets, nesting on the 

 ground, eating when I know not as it seems to 

 call all night and to lie hidden by day. When 

 flushed it arises noiselessly or utters sometimes 

 a single "chuck "-like sound, flies a few rods 

 away and often alights lengthwise on a limb, 

 there squatting close so that its feathers will 

 harmonize and its body appear to be a knot. 

 No nest is constructed, the two white eggs, pret- 

 tily marked with pearl-gray or purplish blotch- 

 es, being laid on a few leaves, usually in a 

 slight depression in the ground. Before the 

 flush of the orb of day has faded the call begins. 

 To one unaccustomed to the note it is weird, un- 

 canny, a wandering voice, a cry in the night. 

 Who "poor WU1" was or what he dici I know 



