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Updated: May 16, 2025
The evening star still hung above the little western gap in the hills. It was his star; it was sinking fast: and she would keep her lamp burning. When he climbed to his room, the cry of the whippoorwill in the ravine came to him through his window futile, persistent, like a human wail for happiness.
He is like a weasel or a mink or a whippoorwill he comes out only at night. "'If the weather was like this all the time, people would never learn to read and write, said Joe to me just as you arrived. And isn't that so?
A whippoorwill sent his mournful cry across the tree-tops, and was answered. Frogs added the booming of their tireless throats. A young moon slipped across an eastern mountain, and livened the creek into a soft shimmer wherein long shadows quavered. The more distant line of mountains showed in a mist of silver, and the nearer heights in blue -gray silhouette.
An owl hooted in a tree not far away and from a cleft in the mountains came the weird song of the whippoorwill. Fate had chosen a very simple way of bringing about events of great importance to persons in this history. A doctor off on a walking trip had idly lifted his telescope to scan the village in the valley.
Yes, the mighty arms of the Union were about him; the trump of a fame, such as no song had ever sung, was poised to blow to the world his daring. Hark! Heavens, yes; the long, tender plaint of the whippoorwill. Ah! now, now there was no doubt. In swooning delight he waits. Good Heaven! What's that sound? Angels and ministers of grace, the dead in wailing woe over the deed about to be done?
But other voices of the night reached his ears; a whippoorwill and his mate were making much ado over the selection of their nesting-place on the border of the thicket. The tantalizing cry of a coyote on the nearest hill caused his mother to turn from him, lifting her head in alarm, and uneasily scenting the night air.
Her mother stood at an open window, inhaling the evening fragrance of flowers, and occasionally listening to the wild note of the mysterious whippoorwill, that came from a thicket of forest-trees in the distance. The step of her father caught the ear of the young girl, who sprang up and ran towards him with eager face and sparkle of eye and voice.
Aladdin's finger was always on the pulse of his audience, and he began with relish: Oh, shut and dark her window is In the dark house on the hill, But I have come up through the lilac walk To the lilt of the whippoorwill, With the old years tugging at my hands And my heart which is her heart still.
There are several other species, more or less interesting, ridiculous, or frightful. I will leave them, to speak of birds of more pleasing habits and a more innocent character. The next remarkable family of nocturnal birds comprises the Moth-Hunters, including, in New England, only two species, the Whippoorwill and the Night-Hawk, or Piramidig.
My alert correspondent one day saw him eagerly catch up an onion skin and make off with it, either deceived by it or else thinking it a good substitute for the coveted material. One day in May, walking in the woods, I came upon the nest of a whippoorwill, or rather its eggs, for it builds no nest, two elliptical whitish spotted eggs lying upon the dry leaves.
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