THE WHIPPOORWILL. 



WHAT farm boy has not heard 

 this birdless voice echoing from 

 the ghostly shades of the 

 thicket close at hand, or scarcely audi- 

 ble in the distance? Perhaps you have 

 heard it as you have passed between 

 the wood and the hill over there, com- 

 ing clear from the wood but reechoing 

 from the hill only the shrill last sylla- 

 ble. Farther away on the distant hill- 

 top you may have taken this last sylla- 

 ble for the piping of the salamander. 

 The " whippoorwill " song belongs with 

 the early May moonlit balmy nights, 

 before the blossoms have lost their best 

 perfume and before farm work has be- 

 come a mere drudgery. 



It vividly recalls the merry May- 

 basketing frolics, apparently so neces- 

 sary to existence on the farm; the fresh 

 green fields and woodland blossoms; 

 the planting season with all its hidden 

 promises. There is, in the warble of 

 the bluebird, glad promise of returning 

 spring; and in the animated whistle of 

 the phoebe reiteration of the earlier 

 promise; but the whippoorwill tells of 

 that delightful season realized. His is 

 not a complaint groaned forth, but a 

 glad announcement of joy fully come. 

 My early home nestled in one of 

 those gems of woodland that dot the 

 rolling Iowa prairies. One of my earli- 

 est memories of this old home is the 

 twilight choruses of the whippoorwills 

 in the door-yard. They often ventured 

 upon the door-step and sang for minutes 

 at a time, apparently oblivious of the 

 members of the family seated just inside 

 the open door. On more than one oc- 

 casion more than one bird occupied the 

 door-step at the same time, all the while 

 apparently trying to drown each others' 

 voices in a continuous flow of song. 

 At such times the delightful mellow- 



ness which one hears, with the birds in 

 the distance, gives place to an almost 

 painful, penetrating shrillness. The 

 more deliberately uttered song is inva- 

 riably preceded by a strongly guttural 

 sound not unlike that produced by 

 striking an inflated rubber bag. The 

 near-by song, to my ear, sounds like 

 ''qui ko wee," the first syllable with a 

 strong "q" sound. I have never heard 

 them sing later than ii o'clock in the 

 evening nor earlier than 3 in the morn- 

 ing. 



It is well-nigh impossible to creep 

 upon a singing bird in the woods, even 

 if it could be seen in the dim light, but 

 it was not unusual, at my old home, for 

 the birds to playfully fly round and 

 round anyone who might be standing 

 out in the yard at twilight. The birds 

 often came so close that the wings 

 seemed to brush the face. The flight is 

 so utterly noiseless that the object of 

 their sport is aware of the presence be- 

 fore he can fully realize what it is. 



The whippoorwill inhabits the east- 

 ern portion of the United States, west 

 to eastern North and South Hakota 

 and Nebraska, western Kansas, Indian 

 Territory and Texas; north to southern 

 Canada, into Nova Scotia and Mani- 

 toba; and south in winter into eastern 

 Mexico and Guatemala. It breeds in 

 the northern and central parts of its 

 range, and rarely to Florida. 



The nest is made late in May or early 

 in June, in the Northern states. The 

 eggs are two in number, light gray or 

 white, with brown and lilac markings 

 often arranged in scratchings and pen- 

 cilings besides the spots and blotches. 

 There is usually scarcely more of a nest 

 than the leaves lying on the ground; 

 rarely nothing but the bare ground. 



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