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On a recent Sunday, a young lady with an unusual Kbquest visited Lee and me at Qpr vendor’s stall at the
fljrchwood farmer’s market.
Noticing we had framed bird prints for sale, along with tftmiemade preserves, jelly Hfid pickles, Leigh Glenn asked: “Do you have a photograph of a whip-poor-will?”
“Yes,” I answered, “but I don’t think it is a very good one. JJiey are not much to look at. A whip-poor-will is all voice.”
“I want a picture of a whippoor-will,” she said. “I hear one every night at my house.”
“Whip-poor-wills are all shades of gray and brown. They look exactly like the woods floor. All big eyes and a very wide mouth,” I said.
Still, she wanted a photograph of a whip-poor-will. The conversation ended as I promised to look at my pictures and order a print if I thought one could be successfully made. Glenn left with the understanding that I would telephone her when I had the prints to show her.
I reviewed my slides. This brought back memories.
Only 9 inches long, the whip-poor-will has a wingspread of 19 inches. On these long, narrow wings, the birds silently fly through summer nights with mouths open to gather in night-flying insects. The bill is very small, but the gape — the mouth opening — stretches from under one great, light-gathering eye, to the other.
With a rush of excitement, I remembered the first and only whip-poor-will nest I ever saw. “Nest” is an inaccurate term — two eggs are laid in a slight depression on the forest floor, where they blend perfectly with the brown leaves.
The nest was in West Virginia, near the Cacapon River. Lee and I spent a number of weeks in a lodge there one summer. It was the beginning of a summer wildlife studies program for young people
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