One hallmark of a good camping trip in my family is an evening spent huddled around a crackling campfire as the sun and moon exchange places and dusk settles around us. The smell of the fire, the taste of gooey marshmallows smashed into S’mores, the silhouettes of bats and moths in their nightly chase—all create a moment completed only by the haunting calls of whip-poor-wills (Antrostomus vociferus). These elusive nocturnal birds, although rarely seen, announce themselves boldly by calling their own name over and over again in a seemingly endless serenade.
The eastern whip-poor-will is part of the Caprimulgidae family of nocturnal birds commonly called nighthawks and nightjars. Robin-sized and cloaked in impressive camouflage, whip-poor-wills breed in open woodlands and nest on the ground. Their nest is a shallow area among the leaf litter that is carved out by the weight of the incubating parent and two eggs. Whip-poor-wills have been known to lay their eggs in phase with the lunar cycle, so that the chicks hatch about 10 days before a full moon. Thus, the parents can take advantage of the longer and brighter light of a waxing moon to forage an abundance of flying insects when the chicks are at their hungriest. Continue reading
Late that evening, as I settled down with one of his many 
the Midwestern summer are often the farthest things from our minds. It always amazes me when the weather has been cold for an extended period, then, at the first sign of warmth, insects seem to magically reappear. Where have they been hiding? How did they survive the frigid air that makes me shiver in my sweater when I’m outdoors longer than a few minutes?
Walking through the woods in late fall, everything seems to be settling in—the colors calming to variations of brown, the dull roar of the wind the only sound. That is, until the staccato “cha-cha-cha” 
Lake County Nature 