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as far away as the pine woods on the other side of the railroad tracks. I wondered if the others were asleep; was 1 the only one hearing this wonderful bird?
In the shadows, I saw my father sit up in bed. He began whistling a clear imitation of the night bird. The Whippoor-will was silent, then it called again, closer. So began a duet between the bird and my father. After each imitation by my father the bird came closer until the strident call came from the great pecan tree in the back yard. Everyone was awake by this time and I could hear my sister’s whispering in the bed next to mine.
“Let us go to sleep now, John,” said my mother. So my father was silent. The Whippoor-will was also silent. Soon I heard the emphatic admonition from far away, in the pine woods beyond the railroad tracks.
I came back to the present and realized the Bird’s Whippoor-will had also stopped calling. Again I was standing next to Lee Trott in the soft shadows of a full moon; back in Virginia, back into the present. : 4
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