SEPTEMBER 1: The Whippoorwills
In the deep and dark woods, where there are many rocks, and where people seldom go, live the Whippoorwills.
The Whippoorwills guard their young if danger is near, but when they are little eggs they are not sheltered by a home-nest—the ground does well enough for them.
Perhaps Mother Whippoorwill thinks it is a mistake to begin by spoiling her children, but she is not a hard-hearted mother as this would seem to show. No, she is always ready to defend them from enemies.
Now, Mr. Whippoorwill is about the size of a robin, but he looks longer because he has great, long wings. He is covered with reddish-brown feathers, and sometimes grayish-white. He has a fine white collar and his quills are decorated with white. He has bristles all about his beak, which is very large.
Mrs. Whippoorwill is just about the same in looks, except she has a tan collar instead of a white one, and her tail is tan, too.
One night—for the whippoorwills love the night-time—a boy thought he would like to catch a whippoorwill and have him for a pet. He lovedthe wonderful song of the whippoorwill—which is a beautiful, rather sad note. The whippoorwills only sing when away from people, and they love to be by themselves. That is why they choose their homes where people will not come.
And he caught Mr. Whippoorwill. “Ah,” he said. “I will be very good to you. You may have a big place to fly about in, for I have made it with wire in the yard. And you will have a little home of your own. I will not keep you in a small cage. That would be cruel.”
The little boy hadn’t thought that it would be cruel to keep the whippoorwill in any way—the bird who loves solitude—or being alone.
Every night after this he listened to hear his whippoorwill sing, but never a sound did he make. Then he thought is was because Mr. Whippoorwill was without his mate, and after a long time he caught Mrs. Whippoorwill.
Now he would surely have the glorious Whippoorwill singing every evening, he thought.
But not a sound did he hear. In fact, they seemed to have forgotten their note—they had left it behind in the woods.
You see, the Whippoorwill will not sing in captivity. He is utterly miserable then, and he longs to be back where he can be alone and away from creatures. Then, at night, when it is quiet and dark, we can sometimes hear his glorious note.
The boy did not know what to make of it, but at last he let them go. Oh! The joy of spreading their wings toward the dark woods! How wonderful it was! And to see the Whippoorwill children! To feel the dark cool woods, to sleep all day, to work all night!
“Ah,” said Mr. Whippoorwill, when he was back in the woods, “I must see if I can find my note. I left it in the woods behind me.”
“So did I,” said Mrs. Whippoorwill. And to their great delight they found their notes again—they had just been quiet deep down in their throats, for they had left the woods, and their little bird hearts had been too sad for singing. The children joined in too. And the boy heard them all.
“They sing now,” he said. “They don’t like to be caught.” And how glad the Whippoorwills were that the boy understood.