The cats ears twitch and I stop to listen.
Some minutes go by then he lets ‘er rip again.
But the Whippoorwill has given it up in the strengthening light.
Smiling I go back to whatever I am doing, which very well might be sleeping. Someone nearby has chickens. Or at least a rooster. With all the potential chicken-loving critters up here, I presume he is not a wild rogue living-off-the-land kind of bird. But, I have not been to investigate their set-up. I love the country feel I get every time I hear him crow. He starts up early in the morning in typical rooster fashion; but then he continues on and off all day. It is not something you would expect to hear in the still, damp, dewy mornings or hot breezy afternoons at the edge of a state forest. Crows, yes. Nuthatches, Titmice, Chickadees, Cardinals, yes. Downey, Hairy, Red-bellied and Pileated Woodpeckers, yes. Screaming Red-shouldered and Red-tailed Hawks, yes. Whippoorwills, yes. But a rooster? Not so much.
The most amusing is the dueling notes of the rooster and whippoorwill in the wee small hours. Good morning. Good Night.