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Whippoorwill ‍
It’s near civil twilight, that magical end of day when critters come out, and Mica-the-canine and I are out for one last walk. I need this more than she does. We head west towards a field which dips down into an old farm pond on the Oconee Bell Trail at Devils Fork State Park. As we approach, the first peepers we’ve heard this year begin their trill. We walk downhill through stubble for a closer listen. A bat wheels by, dipping and darting in search of evening’s flying insects. Like the peepers, it’s the first bat we’ve seen in 2025. Mica’s attention is fixated on the edge of woods and we wait for coyotes to appear, or deer, or an armadillo in search of an evening bed, but nothing shows up this time. Reluctantly we head home, and out of fading light comes the call of a whippoorwill—not chuck-wills-widow, but an honest to goodness whippoorwill—and I add that simple blessing to the riches of this day. ~K