George Singleton tells of the coming of the annual whippoorwill storm

Whippoorwill perched on a branch.

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “April storms bring back whippoorwills,” was originally published in the May 1, 1997 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Legend has it that during the last days of April, a spring storm will pass through the area. Upon the strong winds of this storm will return the whippoorwills to the surrounding countryside. The old legend that has been passed down through the years tell of these small birds riding the winds of the evenings and return for the remaining days of spring and the following summer. Within a few days after the storm has passed through, the calls of the whippoorwill will ride the evening air and the countryside will come alive with the lonesome calls.

The whippoorwill storm never comes during the daylight hours. Always, the strong winds and drenching rain comes shortly after the hours of darkness. On Tues., the 22^nd of April around 6:30 p.m., the arrival of the small birds into this area took place. The severe wins and rains on this date was most likely the storm that brought the whippoorwills with it.

The whippoorwill is a small brownish-colored bird with small white spots mingled in no certain pattern along the back and breast. This bird is heard only during the late evening hours around the coming of darkness. It can be found nested around the edges of fields and in the thick underbrush of fence rows and the growth along the edges of pasture land.

Many songs and stories have been written about the whippoorwill and the sound of its lonesome calls. Usually, most of these tales and songs are sad; stories of broken hearts and faded loves. Many of the early settlers linked the sounds of these lonesome calls to the coming of death or other tragedies. Most always, the lyrics of the call of this small bird tells of sadness. And, the coming of darkness was almost always compared by our ancestors as a parallel to departing this life, just as the coming of dawn is compared to the beginning.

The lives of the early Indians was also associated to the arrival of this small and strange bird and its lonesome calls. They believed that when hearing the whippoorwill, it was a time for serious thought and meditation. When hearing the first calls after their arrival on the strong winds of a late April storm, the early Indian knew that it was time for planning the raising of their crops of corn and squash and the planning for the summer fishing and their journeys to the coast to gather food from the sea.

They also believed that when the call of the whippoorwill rode the evening winds, that all was well and danger lurked not in the dark shadows of the coming darkness. The calls of this small bird was a sound of peace and contentment. It was also a reminder that life was not forever, and death would come just as the whippoorwill would disappear during the later days of summer, and the soul would depart into the realms of the great unknown.

Very few of us today bother to listen for the calls of the whippoorwill as the shadows of the evening gather at the closing of the day. Many would no recognize the call if they heard it. We would have to turn to our televisions or computers and hear and read it there. Then, we might believe that we had heard it, and then it would be forgotten within a very short time.

None of us today seek out the high hills or the open fields when the shadows creep across the open spaces at the close of the day and listen for the calls of the whippoorwill. I, myself, go forth every chance I get during the time of late spring to try and hear their lonesome calls that almost appear to come from another time. That reassurance that there is more  to this life than television and worlds of fantasy and fairyland when one hears the lonesome calls from the deep bottoms and rolling hillsides.

I believe that we, as a society, have put aside too many of the old legends and beliefs of our ancestors. On may things we try to demand proof, while on others, we look at those who believe as being uneducated or stupid. I myself know that true contentment and peace of mind goes hand in hand with many of these old sayings and beliefs. This does not mean that one has to seclude themselves from the rest of the world and become a hermit. I do know, however, that my closeness with my God is felt more when the shadows of the evening gather across the rolling hills and the call of the lonesome whippoorwill will ride the winds while watching the colors of a glorious sunset.

And, as legend tells us, the whippoorwill storm has come for this spring, and within the next few evenings the lonesome cry of this small strange bird will sound across the countryside during quiet hours of the late evenings, when work is done and shadows falls.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)