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 phcebe 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 u 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 I^akota 
and Nebraska, western Kansas, fndian 
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. 
