The W^hip-poor-will 



By MELICENT ENO HUMASON, New Britain, Conn. 

 With Photographs by Leslie W. Lee 



ONE evening, just before dusk, as a friend and I were scrambling over 

 a rocky wooded ledge, after a long day's tramp in the mountains, 

 we were suddenly surprised by a low chuckling purr. Gazing through 

 the dim light, at the spot whence came the sound, we saw a dusky shape quietly 

 gHde into the trees, with the planing, sidelong swoop of a bat. Stealthily it 

 alighted on a limb almost directly above a hollow of dry chestnut-oak leaves 

 in which lay two white spotted eggs. 



So here was the Whip-poor-will, in this lonely deserted place, on this high 

 mountain ridge at the top o' the world, with apparently no neighbors to intrude. 



We departed from the site as quickly and noiselessly as possible, leaving 

 her to return in peace; then we rested on a lichen- mottled rock about 50 feet 

 away. 



It was truly dusk now. The lights in the little cottages of the valley below 

 glittered with friendly eyes ; a wagon rattled down the stony roa,d on its home- 

 ward journey; a dog howled long at some imaginary foe in the thicket; a Scarlet 

 Tanager uttered his deep chip-chur-r-r ; the Wood Thrushes tinkled their 

 evening bells; and then, close at hand, a full-throated ■whip-poor-will, whip- 

 poor-will, many times repeated (once we counted 267 calls, without a second's 

 intermission) , betokened felicity and happy companionship on the ledge. 



Early the next morning we climbed the stony path, bordered by maple- 

 leaved viburnum and dogwood, to the abode of our newly discovered residents. 



Instead of going directly to the nest of the Whip-poor-will, we made a wide 

 detour around her, approaching her from the rear, over a large rock, which bore 

 convenient depr essions in the shape of steps. 



Long grass grew in the crevices of our excellent staircase, and shiny-berried 

 Solomon's seal stretched yearningly toward the light. 



Climbing, then descending this rock, we mounted another, from the farther 

 end of which we surveyed the scene — brilliant now in the morning light — of 

 the night before. 



Three trees formed the background and wings, namely, the yellow oak, the 

 chestnut oak, and the pignut hickory. We glanced into the 'spotlight' formed 

 by the flickering sun. There were no eggs to be seen ! 



Using our glasses, what had at first appeared to be the end of the rotten 

 limb now shaped itself into a brooding bird. Soon we clearly defined the 

 whiskers, the shut eyes, the sagging mouth. Caught in its sleep, I declare! 

 At the snap of a twig the 'limb' took wings, and, repeating the sound of the 

 night before, fluttered, almost stupidly, to a branch only a few feet away from 

 the eggs. There, the Whip-poor-will stolidly blinked at us and seemed not 

 afraid. 



(214) 



