The Poorwills 



rang the bell ten minutes early, — a most forgivable offense. At our 

 Goose Lake Camp in 19 12, we were serenaded nightly by a pair of these 

 birds which were wont to spend the slumberous hours of daylight on a 

 jasper-strewn hillside hard by. Several times we got so near to a per- 

 former that we heard a third note, a low, cutting sound, not unlike the 

 bite of a whiplash. Poor-will-hip Poor-will-{wh)ip. At the conclusion 

 of one performance the 



bird dropped his voice 

 and repeated the notes 

 with exceeding rapidity, 

 as though he were try- 

 ing to finish off his stent 

 in a single breath. The 

 official poor-will overture 

 of the nightly operetta 

 sometimes took place in 

 an opening right in front 

 of our tent. On one such 

 occasion the bird, pre- 

 sumably the male, took 

 a station on top of a post 

 and urged his suit loud- 

 ly, while his mate sat on 

 the ground below. At 

 the conclusion of an im- 

 passioned address, the 

 serenader made an ama- 

 tory dive at his enamo- 

 rata, an overture which 

 she deftly avoided. Then 

 the wooer poured out his 

 soul from another post 

 and tried another dash; 

 whereupon both birds 

 set out happily together, 

 the female in the lead, 

 and reechoing the male's 

 notes so distinctly that 

 I am quite inclined to 

 believe she is capable of 

 crying Poor-will-(wh)ip 

 herself. 



Pholo by Wright M. Pierce 

 DUSKY POORWILL, INCUBATING 



DESERT SLOPE OF THE SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS 



1057 



