THE WHIPPOORWILL SONG (Chapter 1)

THE WHIPPOORWILL’S SONG
Chapter One
We tiptoed out of the bedroom, making sure we made no noise as to wake Mama and Daddy. It was our first endeavor to do something so sneaky or brave as to leave the house while everyone else was asleep. We had to go through the dining room, into the kitchen and out the door before we could set our feet on the porch where we would feel like we were safely on our way. It wasn't very far from the bed to the back door, but I'm such a klutz, if there was anything in our path I'd have managed to kick it , step on it or knock it over. Lucky for us the moon shown as bright as day. In the country there were no shades to close at night, so even through filtered light coming from the window, it was just enough for us to find our way out the door.

It must have been around 11:30 that night as we lay there trying get to sleep. Why is it when two teens are made to go to bed early, sleep will not come? That’s what we did in the country - go to bed early for on the farm morning came too soon. It was a summer night, not hot by any means. During the day in a Tennessee summer, the sun could bring sweat in a new york minute. However when the sun went down in the west, the nights were wonderful.

We had whispered and laughed. Daddy called out from the other room for us to be quiet and go to sleep. That just made us giggle more and get wider awake!

“Whip-poor-will, Whip-poor-will, Whip-poor-will.” We stopped talking to listen. The bird seemed to be right on the window sill. I got up, looked out the window, but didn’t see him. Then he sang again, “Whip-poor-will, Whip-poor-will“. From this bush to that tree, he sang and sang. We lay there listening to him sing. At times he seemed to get closer to the bedroom window again and sing, then other times he sounded far away.

“Have you ever seen a whippoorwill?” I asked Donna.

She agreed she had not. Donna was older than I. We shared the little bedroom in our new house. We were great pals, regardless of the difference in our ages. She was good for me and together we made a pair! I liked her talent. She could draw good, and I liked her stories. I don’t remember if she made them up as she went or if she had read them. They were always good. She read a lot and didn’t mind sharing her knowledge with me.

In hushed tones I said, “I’ve never seen one either. I wonder what they look like. What color they are”.

“Why don’t we go outside to see for ourselves?” she whispered.

That did it! All I needed was a nudge anyway. In our night gown, without a house coat, and barefooted, just as quietly as possible - hardly taking a breath in fear of waking someone we started our venture.

The summer night was bright as day with a full moon shining down on the farm, casting shadows that would be eerie any other night. .

So here we were on the back porch ready to make a mad dash into the yard. Which direction we were going exactly we hadn’t planned. Our only thought was to see the bird. We stood momentarily listening for the night bird. “Whippoorwill” he teased.

We just knew he was on the clothes line in the back yard, but when we got there its call came from a few yards out. We went further talking quietly as we walked. You'd think we would hear his wings flutter as he moved from bush to vine.

It teased us by changing its perch and calling to us again,

“Whippoorwill”, “Whippoorwill“!. We followed his call, moving in another direction, zig-zagging across the yard following the singing bird. We just knew we had him this time.

"He's right over there," I whispered. My plan was to slip up on him in the next bush. But the next time he called, he was still further out in the field.

We walked quietly through the field, giggling and talking in low tones, the dew washing our feet as we went through the grass. One thing was on our mind, and that was to accomplish our mission. We just had to see the bird that sings in the night. Having never seen a whippoorwill, we could have seen a buzzard and would not have known the difference. We learned later the whippoorwill got its name by its call. He swoops across the sky hunting insects at night and stops occasionally to announce himself. He is only about 10 inches long. We didn’t know what we were looking for, but the venture became an adventure.

Soon we gave up realizing he had out smarted us. Looking back toward the house which was quiet a distance away,we wisely decided that to go any further would mean trouble for sure. The peanut patch was our turning point, for it was on the edge of the bigger field just before going into the woods that bordered the lan, and separated our farm from the neighbors. We giggled as we walked home, knowing that Mama and Daddy wasn’t aware we had left the house! It started in an innocent venture to see the night bird, but we felt a little naughty for having slipped out without permission!

Chapter
1999
Doris Thompson