Notes from Field and Study 



109 



roosting place in a grape-vine thicket. I 

 waited until it grew dark, yet did not 

 want to frighten the fellow from his 

 thicket. I supposed, truly, that he was not 

 going to sing that night. And then the 

 moon came up and found me waiting for 

 the Mocker. I did not have to wait more 

 than two hours longer surely, though I 

 did not look at the clock, until back came 

 the Mocker. Now here was some of the 

 mystery: Why should he come back to 

 this particular telephone pole, or this 

 particular chimney to do his singing, when 

 his roost was a quarter of a mile away? 

 If it was to entertain his mate who was 

 likely asleep on her nest, why should he 

 not sing nearer to her, for she was at least 

 three blocks away? And then, why should 

 he sing at all? 



It was entertaining to hear and watch 

 him at any rate, whether there was mys- 

 tery or not. He was surely not asleep, as 

 some have thought, for I could see his little 

 form shoot up into the air and come back 

 to the pole just as nimbly and unerringly 

 as in the day, and his voice was just as 

 clear, if not clearer, and his program just 

 as wonderful and varied as it had been in 

 the day. He sang here on the telephone 

 pole for a long period and then flew to the 

 chimney. Finally, I felt that I knew why 

 he came here. If he should have been 

 attacked by enemies, who could see better 

 than he at night? He would not have had 

 much chance for escape in the thicket, 

 but from the chimney he had wide sweeps 

 of prairie on all sides at his command, and 

 this probably gave him a feeling of safety. 

 Probably the desire for this feeling deter- 

 mined the place where he was to sing, 

 whether it was near his mate or not. 

 Therefore I felt that I had solved my 

 problem so far. 



But why should he sing at all? and 

 then a new thing happened. I heard 

 another song — not that of an Owl, a 

 Night-hawk, or a Whip-poor-will — ^but of 

 a common Lark Sparrow. Another singer 

 for the night? I went to find him, and 

 there he was on a telephone wire, about 

 a block from where I had been. This was a 

 genuine surprise, and made things fairly 



hot with interest. He was not asleep 

 either, for he stopped singing when I 

 came too near, and finally flew away. 



So the Mockers were not alone. Later 

 I found there were many other night 

 singers. A pet Dickcissel I had in a large 

 cage regularly sang on the bright nights, 

 and he was answered from the fields. A 

 Slate-colored Junco, in the same cage, 

 sang too, but the Mockers and the Lark 

 Sparrows were by far the most common. 



The most singing was done on the bright- 

 est nights to be sure— and I would have 

 thought that the birds mistook the moon 

 for the sun had they never sung in the same 

 way, at the same time and place, when 

 there was absolutely no moon, or the light 

 so dim that I could not see the birds there. 

 I do not believe the moon fools the birds 

 after all. 



Since then I have come to West Virginia, 

 and have further studied the night singers, 

 and have had good opportunity as I sleep 

 out-of-doors. 



The Yellow-breasted Chat is the most 

 common night voice. Like the Mocker his 

 program is just as varied as by day, 

 though strangely the Chat does not seem 

 to select a particularly open place as the 

 Mocker did. Then, too, I frequently hear 

 the Yellow-billed Cuckoo, and Wood 

 Pewee. Some of the individual birds which 

 I have heard sing at night, I feel sure, 

 were just temporarily startled by a sudden 

 wind, a loud noise, or some other disturb- 

 ance unknown to me. But just why should 

 any of them sing, instead of spreading 

 alarm, or some such thing? 



First, I believe that the nesting season 

 — -and this is the one during which they 

 most frequently sing — -is a nervous time. 

 The fact that the cares of a family and not 

 an individual only are upon them, may 

 cause this partly, and possibly also the 

 fact that their whole system at the breed- 

 ing season is in higher tension. 



If this be so, and I think it is, much 

 slighter noises than usual would awaken 

 the sleeping bird. Thus a slight breeze in 

 the grape-vine thicket may have wakened 

 the Mocker, and a mouse in the raspberry 

 vines may have aroused the Chat. Once 



