In my last blog, I wrote about how times have changed since I was a girl. I miss a lot of those times. One thing I didn’t write about, and which I sincerely miss, is hearing the call of the whippoorwill.
The whippoorwill is a night bird, a fascinating bird, and second only to the owl as my favorite bird of all time. In fact, I even wrote an article, many years ago, about that elusive little fellow. Why do I have such high regard for this shy visitor? For one thing, he is mysterious and you know for a fact that I like mysteries. In spring, summer, and fall, he is heard in wooded areas–heard, but seldom seen. And, sadly, his numbers are decreasing due to a decrease in food supply due to use of insecticides and ever-encroaching “progress”.
But, getting back to the whippoorwill–I’ve seen only one up close and that was because, somehow, he had been injured and was lying on the ground come daylight. He is not a really skilled house builder, but his nest suits him fine. He catches night insects on the wing, mouth open, scooping them up. But, what I really love is his haunting call. Whip-poor-will, he calls from a dark hollow. Then, another answers. When he is really wound up, he energetically calls with hardly a pause between.
When I heard the first whippoorwill each year, I knew that spring had arrived at last. He was very vocal for a while, then I imagine home duties kept him occupied. I’d hear him occasionally during summer months and then, in the fall, one of those calls would be the last as he took flight for warmer climes. I was always sad to know he had gone.
Perhaps you’ve never heard a whippoorwill. Or, if you have, you may not associate him with warm weather and shadowy woods and mystery. I do. And, I’ll always love the call of the whippoorwill.
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