THE WHIP -POOE -WILL 



One day in May, walking in the woods, I 

 came upon the nest of a whip-poor-will, or rather its 

 eggs, for it builds no nest, — two elliptical whitish 

 spotted eggs lying upon the dry leaves. My foot 

 was within a yard of the mother bird before she 

 flew. I wondered what a sharp eye would detect 

 curious or characteristic in the ways of the bird, 

 so I came to the place many times and had a 

 look. It was always a task to separate the bird 

 from her surroundings, though I stood within a 

 few feet of her, and knew exactly where to look. 

 One had to bear on with his eye, as it were, and 

 refuse to be baffled. The sticks and leaves, and 

 bits of black or dark-brown bark, were all ex- 

 actly copied in the bird's plumage. And then she 

 did sit so close, and simulate so well a shapeless, 

 decaying piece of wood or bark ! Twice I brought 

 a companion, and, guiding his eye to the spot, 

 noted how difficult it was for him to make out 

 there, in full view upon the dry leaves, any sem- 

 blance to a bird. When the bird returned after 

 being disturbed, she would alight within a few 

 inches of her eggs, and then, after a moment's 

 pause, hobble awkwardly upon them. 



