Incessant Singers

I once regarded the whip-poor-will as a noisy pest—back when I was a city-bound person coming out to the country to camp for long weekends. I felt at the time that I was attempting to trade city clamor for a pastoral weekend, and did not enjoy this bird’s annoying call—which can be repeated many dozens of times, without pause. Now, however, I consider his call a blessing, when it emanates from the blackness of the forest on summer nights. What changed me?

An early factor in my conversion was reading years ago that a “whip-poor-will consumes more mosquitoes in a single night’s feeding than a purple martin in a lifetime.” How can you not love such a voracious appetite?

The whip-poor-will is a species among the family of night jars—many of whom have calls that give them their name. It’s scientific name is Caprimulgus vociferus. I love the second word—it says so much about his call. The first word is Latin for goatsucker; because mythology has it that the whip-poor-will sucks milk from the teats of cows and goats. In fact, although they have a very small bill, their mouth does open to a huge gap—the easier to scoop up insects on the fly.

The whip-poor-will is a solitary bird. It’s shy and very cryptically colored. It roosts and nests on the ground, but remains still and almost invisible, as it blends into leaf litter. Not long ago I was lounging in the outdoor tub at twilight. After awhile, I heard a rustling nearby. I stared in the sound’s direction, seeing nothing but leaves. Suddenly the whip-poor-will burst into flight—a pile of leaves taking off!

A few times while I’m in the tub, as I stare into the woods, I’ve spotted the dark form of a whip-poor-will flutter silently to a perch. It is just a black shadow in the growing dusk—a hint of an animate object. If my eyes have fully adjusted to the dark, I’ve been able to watch the bird, as it repeatedly darts out and circles back to the same perch—leaving the night air with one less flying insect.

So now I love the whip-poor-will’s song. Its clarion call fills the nighttime woods with music. When one is perched really close, we can even hear a guttural “chuck” sound, just prior to each call. Sing on, sweet whip-poor-will! May you find all our mosquitoes tonight.