|
American
Woodcock
Scolopax minor
[Published
in 1927: Smithsonian Institution United States National Museum
Bulletin 142 (Part 1): 61-78]
This mysterious hermit of the alders, this recluse of the boggy
thickets, this wood nymph of crepuscular habits is a common bird
and well distributed in our Eastern States, widely known, but not
intimately known. Its quiet retiring habits do not lead to human
intimacy. It may live almost in our midst unnoticed. Its needs are
modest, its habit is circumscribed, and it clings with tenacity to
its favorite haunts even when closely encroached upon by
civilization. The banks of a stream running through my place,
close to the heart of the city, were once famous woodcock covers
in which the birds persisted long after the surroundings were
built up; and even within recent years I have had a pair of
woodcocks living in the shrubbery along the stream for a week or
two at a time.
Who knows where to look for woodcocks? Their haunts are so
varied that one may not be surprised to find them almost anywhere,
especially on migrations. Flight birds are here today and gone
tomorrow. Their favorite resorts are alder thickets along the
banks of meandering streams or spring-fed boggy runs; rich bottom
lands or scrubby hollows, overgrown with willows, maples, alders,
and poison sumac; or the scrubby edges of damp, second-growth
woods, mixed with birches; any such place will suit them where
they can find moist soil, not too wet or too sour, well supplied
with earthworms. During the hot, sultry weather of July and
August, the molting season, they seek the seclusion of cool,
moist, leafy woods or dense thickets; or they may resort to the
cool hillside or mountain bogs, fed by cool springs; or, if the
weather is very dry, they may be found in the wet grassy meadows,
Woodcocks do not like too much water and, after heavy rains, they
may be driven from their usual covers to well-drained hillsides,
sparsely covered with small birches, maples, locusts, and cedars.
Sometimes they are found on the tops of mountains; George B.
Sennett (1887) saw a pair on the top of Roan Mountain in North
Carolina, at an elevation of 6,000 feet, "in a clump of
balsams; the overflow from numerous springs which had their
sources at this spot formed an open, adjoining marsh of several
acres."
Woodcocks often appear in unexpected places, such as city
parks, yards, gardens, orchards, or even lawns. John T. Nichols
writes to me:
A neighbor (Mr. W. S. Dana) called for me at about 10
o'clock in the morning of a sparklingly clear, rather cool
summer's day, to show me a woodcock that was feeding on his lawn,
which slopes down to an almost fresh water arm of Moriches Bay. We
found the bird still busily engaged where he had left it. It was
out in the bright sunlight, crouched, walking about slowly but
cautiously. It held its body in an unsteady wavering manner, and
was picking and digging about the roots of the short grass
stubble, apparently obtaining some food too small for us to
determine. The piece of lawn where the bird was operating was low
and flat, adjacent to the edge of the water where protected by a
low bulkhead. The ground was slightly moist, perhaps from seepage,
which may have accounted for its presence. It was remarkably
unsuspicious, allowing us to crawl within 2 or 3 yards, before
flying back to alight under the shade of near-by trees; but was a
full-grown bird, strong on the wing.
I have, more than once, seen a woodcock crouching in the short
grass beside a country road, quite unconcerned as I drove past. I
have frequently seen one in my yard about the shrubbery and I
remember seeing my father stand on his front piazza and shoot one
that was standing under an arborvitae hedge. Most cornfields are
often favorite resorts for woodcocks in summer.
Spring.--The woodcock is the first
of our waders to migrate north and one of the earliest of all our
migrants, coming with the bluebirds and the robins, as soon as
winter has begun to loosen its grip. The date depends on the
weather and is very variable, for the bird must wait for a thaw to
unlock its food supply in the bogs and spring holes. Walter H.
Rich (1907) has known the woodcock to arrive in Maine as early as
February 10, and says that early birds find a living about the big
ant hills, until the alder covers are ready for them.
In Audubon's (1840) time the migration must have been very
heavy, for he says:
At the time when the woodcocks are traveling from the south
toward all parts of the United States, on their way to their
breeding places, these birds, although they migrate singly, follow
each other with such rapidity, that they may be said to arrive in
flocks, the one coming directly in the wake of the other. This is
particularly observable by a person standing on the eastern banks
of the Mississippi or the Ohio, in the evening dusk, from the
middle of March to that of April, when almost every instant there
whizzes past him a woodcock, with a velocity equaling that of our
swiftest birds. See them flying across and low over the broad
stream; the sound produced by the action of their wings reaches
your ear as they approach, and gradually dies away after they have
passed again and entered the woods.
No such flights can be seen today, but we occasionally have a
comparatively heavy migration; such a flight occurred in 1923 and
is thus described in some notes from Edward H. Forbush:
The most remarkable occurrence of the past two months was
the prevalence of migrating woodcocks over a large part of
southern New England and along the coastal regions to Nova Scotia.
The first woodcock was reported in Massachusetts the last week in
February and from the first week in March onward woodcocks were
noted in slowly increasing numbers over a large part of New
England. From March 22 to the first week in April the number of
these birds scattered through Connecticut and eastern
Massachusetts was remarkable. At evening one could find them
almost anywhere. They were seen in the most unlikely places even
in daylight. They were in all the towns around Boston and in the
suburbs of the city itself, and west at least to the Connecticut
Valley they were even more numerous in the woods and swamps. In
southern New England at this time a large part of the snow had
gone and in going had thawed the ground so that no frost remained
and the woodcocks could find earthworms almost everywhere. Farther
north there was not only frost in the ground but there was deep
snow and the birds could find no food.
Courtship.--The woodcock may be
found by those who seek him and know his haunts, but it is only
for a short time during the breeding season, that he comes out
into the open and makes himself conspicuous. His spectacular
evening song-flight has been seen by many observers, and numerous
writers have referred to it or described it more of less fully.
William Brewster (1894) has given us the best and most complete
account of it, but it is too long to quote in full here. I prefer
to give my own version of it. The time to look and listen for it
is during the laying and incubation period--say the month of April
in Massachusetts, earlier farther south, even December and January
in the Gulf States. The performance usually begins soon after
sunset, as twilight approaches. On dark nights it ceases about
when the afterglow finally disappears in the western sky; and it
begins again in the morning twilight, lasting from dawn to broad
daylight. On moonlight nights it is often continued through much
or all of the night. The woodcock's nest is usually in some swampy
thicket or on the edge of the woods, near an open pasture, field,
or clearing; and here in the nearest open space, preferably on
some knoll or low hillside within hearing of his sitting mate, the
male woodcock entertains her with his thrilling performance.
Sometimes, but not always, he struts around on the ground, with
tail erect and spread, and often with bill pointing downwards and
resting on his chest. More often he stands still, or walks about
slowly in a normal attitude, producing at intervals of a few
seconds two very different notes--a loud, rasping, emphatic zeeip--which
might be mistaken for the note of the nighthawk, and a soft
guttural note, audible at only a short distance, like the croak of
a frog or the cluck of a hen. Suddenly he rises, and flies off at
a rising angle, circling higher and higher, in increasing spirals,
until he looks like a mere speck in the sky, mounting to a height
of 200 or 300 feet; during the upward flight he whistles
continuously, twittering musical notes, like twitter, itter,
itter, itter, repeated without a break. These notes may be
caused by the whistling of his wings, but it seems to me that they
are vocal. Then comes his true love song--a loud, musical,
three-syllable note--sounding to me like chicharee, chicharee,
chicharee uttered three times with only a slight interval
between the outbursts; this song is given as the bird flutters
downward, circling, zigzagging, and finally volplaning down to the
ground at or near his starting point. He soon begins again on the zeeip
notes and the whole act is repeated again and again. Sometimes
two, or even three, birds may be performing within sight or
hearing; occasionally one is seen to drive another away.
The performance has been similarly described by several others
with slight variations. Mr. Brewster (1894) refers to what I have
called the zeeip note as paap and the soft guttural
note as p'tul, and says that--"Each paap was
closely preceded by a p'tul, so closely at times that the
two sounds were nearly merged."
He counted the paaps as "uttered consecutively 31,
21, 37, 29, and 28 times."
Describing the action in detail, he says:
At each utterance of the 'paap' the neck was slightly
lengthened, the head was thrown upward and backward (much in the
manner of the least flycatcher's while singing), the bill was
opened wide and raised to a horizontal position, the wings were
jerked out from the body. All these movements were abrupt and
convulsive, indicating considerable muscular effort on the part of
the bird. There was perhaps also a slight twitching of the tail,
but this member was not perceptibly raised or expanded. The return
of the several parts to their respective normal positions was
quite as sudden as were the initial movements. The forward
recovery of the head was well marked. The opening and shutting of
the bill strongly suggested that of a pair of tongs. During the
emission of the 'paap' the throat swelled and its plumage was
ruffled, but neither effect was more marked than with any of our
small birds while in the act of singing.
The mouth opened to such an extent that I could look
directly down the bird's throat, which appeared large enough to
admit the end of one's forefinger. The lateral distention of the
mouth was especially striking.
Referring to the song flight, he says: "The flights, which
I timed from the start to the finish lasted, respectively, 57 and
59 seconds, the song 11 and 12 seconds respectively." During
the flight he followed him with a glass and "made out
distinctly that while singing he alternately flapped his wings
(several times in succession) and held them extended and
motionless."
Francis H. Allen has sent me the following notes on his
impression of the song:
In all that has been written of this wonderful performance
of the woodcock's, I do not remember to have seen any full
description of the song itself; the peeping, or 'peenting,' on the
ground, with the alternating water-dropping sounds and the
accompaniment of head-jerking and wing-lifting has been described
at length, as well as the remarkable spiral ascent into the air on
whistling wings; but the character of the actual song, which is
uttered at the summit of the ascent and as the bird comes down, is
worth a little more attention. It begins in a confused series of
chipping whistles which convey the impression of coming from at
least three birds at once. These soon resolve themselves into
groups of four to six--usually four in my experience--descending
notes, the groups alternating with groups of high-pitched
wing-whistles. These song notes vary in sweetness with different
individuals, but are often very clear and musical. Not the least
interesting aspect of the woodcock's evening hymn is the fact that
so stolid appearing a bird should be moved by the fervor of
courtship to execute so elaborate and exciting a performance. The
excitement attending the affair as far as the spectator, or rather
listener, is concerned lies to great extent in the wing whistling.
When the woodcock first rises, the whistle is comparatively low,
but as he mounts, the pitch rises and the rapidity of production
increases. It is a steady succession of very short whistling notes
for some time, but, when the bird and the whistle both reach their
height, it comes in short groups of extremely rapid whistles
alternating with brief intervals of motionless wings, as if the
performer were breathless with excitement and effort and could not
sustain his flight for long at a time. This is the effect, I mean.
Probably the bird finds it easy enough, for he makes his flight at
comparatively short intervals and during his periods of rest he is
hard at work producing his harsh and unmusical nighthawk-like 'peent'
notes which involves a deal of muscular effort.
Lynds Jones (1909) says that "the bird floats downward by
a crooked path, the while calling in coaxing tones p chuck tuck
cuck oo, p chuck tuck cuckoo, uttered more slowly at first,
regularly increasing in rapidity until the notes are almost a
wheedling call." Isador S. Trostler (1893) describes a
feature of the courtship which I have not seen mentioned
elsewhere; he writes:
The birds often play in a very droll manner, running round
and round each other in a small circle, their feathers ruffled,
their wings lifted, and their long bills pointing nearly directly
upward, with their heads resting on their backs.
Sometimes they will hop on one foot, holding the other at a
queer angle, as if it had been broken or hurt. The male bird
utters a low indescribable sound during all the playing, and the
sight of these queer antics is worth more than to have seen
Modjeska or Barrett in their celebrated plays.
Nesting.--The nesting sites of the
woodcock are almost as varied as its haunts at other times. I have
never known how or where to look for its nest; in over 40 years of
field work I have seen but one nest with eggs. That was shown to
me by Mrs. Mary M. Kaan, in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, on June
2, 1924. It was located where I should never have thought of
looking for one, in an open, rocky hollow in open woods, within 50
feet of a bridle path on one side and about the same distance from
a swampy ravine and brook on the other side. The nest was on a
little hummock, surrounded by herbage about a foot high; it was a
mere hollow in the ground lined with dead leaves. Although it was
in fairly plain sight, it was a long time before I could see the
sitting bird, even when it was pointed out to me. The bird sat
like a rock, as this species usually does, while I took a series
of photographs of it, moving gradually nearer. I even removed two
leaves which were resting on her bill, and Mrs. Kaan stroked her
on the back before she left. The nest held only three eggs, which
were probably a second laying.
The usual nesting sites are in alder runs, swampy thickets,
brushy corners in pastures, or in underbrush or tall weeds along
the edges of woods. Woodcocks are early breeders and it sometimes
happens that nests are buried under late falls of snow; in such
cases the birds continue to sit as long as it is possible to do
so. The nest is often placed at the foot of a small tree or bush,
occasionally beside a log or stump or even under fallen brush. An
abundance of fallen leaves seems to be an essential requirement,
of which the nest is usually made and among which the bird relies
on its protective coloration for concealment; but its big black
eyes sometimes reveal it.
L. Whitney Watkins (1894) found a nest near Manchester,
Michigan, in heavy timber, and within a few feet of a
reed-bordered, springy spot, it was within 2 feet of an ovenbird's
nest. Another nest he describes as follows:
The old bird, curiously enough, had selected for her nesting
site an open spot where some fallen boughs had partially decayed,
and within 5 feet of a picket fence enclosing an open pasture
field. Opposite her on the other side, were ash, elm, oak, and
other trees, of no considerable size, and round about were many
frost-dried stems of aster and goldenrod, interspersed with the
fallen leaves of the previous summer. Little of green was near.
E. G. Taber (1904) found a nest that was situated in a swampy
corner of a field planted with corn, only 6 feet from the open, on
a slightly raised portion of the ground. This corner was overgrown
with black ash, soft maple, tag alders, and ferns, mingled with
poison ivy. Mr. Brewster (1925) describes two, of several, nests
found near Umbagog Lake, Maine, as follows:
One, containing four eggs, incubated perhaps as many days,
was in the face of a low mound partially overarched by balsam
shrubs surrounded on every side by pools of water, and some 80
yards from the lake shore near the middle of swampy, second-growth
woods made up chiefly of aspen, red cherry, and yellow birch
trees, 20 or 30 feet in height, beneath which grew alders rather
abundantly. The female woodcock flew up from her eggs at least 15
feet in advance of me, and whistling faintly soared off over the
tree tops to be seen no more. I flushed a male about 50 yards from
this nest.
Of the other he says:
It was at the edge of a little fern-grown opening, on a
mound covered with brakes flattened and bleached by winter snows,
beneath a balsam scarce 2 feet high, and not dense enough to
afford much concealment for the eggs which, indeed, caught my eye
when I was 15 feet away, there being no bird on them.
Mr. Trostler (1893) writes:
Finding a nest one day, I disturbed the setting bird three
times, and again four times on the next day, and on the morning of
the third day I found that the birds had removed the eggs during
the night and placed them in a new nest about 8 feet away, where I
found the eggs. I had marked the eggs to avoid any mistake. The
second nest was a mere hollow in the mossy ground, and was in the
middle of an open place in tall marsh grass, while the first was
neatly cupped and lined with the above-mentioned vegetable down.
Another singular habit of the woodcock that I have never
seen noted is that of both birds setting upon the nest in wet or
cold weather. In doing this they huddle very close together and
face in opposite directions, and I have always noted that they
have their heads thrown back and their bills elevated to an angle
of about forty-five degrees.
Mr. Nichols writes to me:
On Long Island there is a favorite nesting station for
woodcock, where the woodland gives place to broad fields,
separated by narrow stands of big trees with a sparse tangled
undergrowth of shrubbery and catbriar, and where here and there a
short fresh-water creek extends inland from the not distant bay.
Several writers have stated or implied that the woodcock raises
two broods in a season. This would be an exception to the rule
among waders. I believe that it normally nests early and that the
late nests are merely second attempts at raising a brood, where
the first nest has been destroyed.
An interesting case of nest-protecting display is thus
described by Dr. Robert Cushman Murphy (1926):
She (assuming that it was the female) would allow us to come
within a few feet before leaving her well-concealed position. Then
she would spring from the nest, pitch on the ground close by, and,
standing with the tail toward us, would raise and spread it so as
to show to full advantage the double row of glistening white spots
at the ends of the rectrices and under coverts. Next, flashing
this striking banner slowly, she would move off among the trees in
the attitude of a strutting turkey cock, stopping when we refused
to follow, and then tripping ahead for a few steps, all the while
bleating softly. The effect was astonishing: the ordinary low
visibility of the woodcock against the forest floor no longer
held, for the spotted fan of the tail had become a most
conspicuous and arresting mark.
Eggs.--The American woodcock lays
four eggs, sometimes only three, and rarely five. They vary in
shape from ovate to rounded ovate and have a moderate gloss. The
ordinary ground colors vary from "pinkish buff" to
"cartridge buff" and in certain brown types from
"pinkish buff" to "cinnamon." They are usually
rather sparingly and more or less evenly marked with small spots,
but sometimes these spots are concentrated about the larger end.
In the lighter types, which are the most common, there are often
many large blotches of light shades of "vinaceous drab"
or "brownish drab"; these are conspicuous and often
predominate. Mixed with them are numerous small spots of light
browns, "cinnamon," "clay color," or
"tawny olive." In the brown types these spots are in
richer browns, "hazel," "russet," or
"cinnamon brown," with the drab spots less conspicuous.
The measurements of 53 eggs, in the United States National
Museum, average 38 by 29 millimeters; the eggs showing the four
extremes measure 41 by 30 and 35 by 27.5
millimeters.
Young.--The period of incubation
is 20 or 21 days. Both sexes assist in this and in the care of the
young. An incubating woodcock is notorious as a close sitter and
cannot usually be flushed from the nest unless nearly trodden
upon; often it can be touched or even lifted from the eggs. The
young are rather feeble when first hatched and are brooded by the
parent bird much of the time for the first day or two. If flushed
from her brood of young the female flutters away for a short
distance as if hardly able to fly, with dangling legs and tail
depressed and spread. If the young are strong enough to walk, she
calls to them making a clucking sound, to which they respond with
a faint peeping sound, as they run toward her; having gathered
them under her wings, she covers them again trusting to her
concealing coloration. If the young are too young and feeble to
run, she may return when she thinks it safe, and carry them off
between her legs, one at a time. Several reliable and accurate
observers have testified to seeing this done; some who have not
see it have doubted it. The following account by Edwyn Sandys
(1904) seems convincing:
The nest in question was on a bit of level ground amid tall
trees. The sole suggestion of cover was a lot of flattened leaves
which lay as the snow had left them. Perhaps 10 yards away was an
old rail fence about waist high, and on the farther side of it was
a clump of tall saplings. A man coming out of the wood told me he
had just flushed a woodcock and had seen her brood, recently
hatched and pointed out where they were. I went in to investigate,
and located one young bird crouched on the leaves. It ran a few
steps and again crouched, evidently not yet strong enough for any
sustained effort. I went off, and hid behind a stump, to await
developments. From this shelter the young bird was visible and it
made no attempt to move. Presently the old one came fluttering
back, alighted near the youngster, and walked to it. In a few
moments she rose and flew low and heavily, merely clearing the
fence, and dropping perhaps 10 yards within the thicket. Her legs
appeared to be half bent, and so far as I could determine the
youngster was held between them. Something about her appearance
reminded me of a thing often seen--a shrike carrying off a small
bird. I carefully marked her down, then glanced toward where the
youngster had been. It was no longer there; and a few moments
later it, or its mate, was found exactly where the mother had gone
down. She flushed and made off in the usual summer flight.
William H. Fisher writes to me:
On May 16, 1903, I flushed an old bird at upper end of the
Eagle Woods. She left three young on the ground, they remaining
very quiet, cuddled in the dead leaves. In a few minutes she
returned and alighted by them took one between her legs,
holding it right up to her belly, and flew off into the thicket. I
sat and watched the other two young for about 15 minutes, hoping
and expecting the mother bird would return, but, she not doing so,
I got tired and left. As the usual set of eggs is four, I wonder
if the old bird carried off one when she first flushed.
John T. Nichols tells, in his notes, of a brood found on Long
Island:
This brood was found early in the morning by working
painstakingly in a narrow stand of trees where a nest was
suspected. The parent bird rose from almost under foot and
fluttered away, as is customary in such cases, with tail spread,
pointing down, legs dangling wide apart. It was perhaps a minute
before the eye could pick out four young lying motionless side by
side, so inconspicuous was their color against the background. For
another couple of minutes they lay motionless. Then of one accord
rolled to their feet and spreading their baby wings aloft, as
though to balance, walked deliberately away with fine, scarcely
audible cheeping, each in a slightly different direction.
Apparently reliable reports are current of the woodcock carrying
its young, but the characteristic peculiar labored flight, with
deflected tail and widespread legs, just described, may also
easily give such an impression erroneously.
Again he writes:
Just after sunrise on a clear morning I came upon 3 birds in
an open field. Two of them flew in different directions, one
swiftly and silently quickly disappeared, the other in the
peculiar fluttering manner characteristic of a parent when
surprised with young. As I reached the point where the two had
risen the presence of helpless young was confirmed by the actions
of a bird on the ground some 75 yards away, at the edge of the
trees to which the parent had flown. Its head up, watching me,
both wings were extended to the side, flapping feebly.
I had stood a couple of minutes scrutinizing the ground
about, when my eye alighted on a fledgling. At the same instant it
rose to its feet, raised and extended its wings to the side, and
began to walk rapidly away, calling a high-pitched 'seep!' Its
wings were fully feathered, though little grown, feathers
extending narrowly between them across the back, sides of its
lower parts feathered, feathers not quite meeting in the center,
otherwise in down. Contrast its helplessness with the young
bobwhite which flies at a much earlier stage.
Audubon (1840) describes the actions of the anxious mother in
the following well-chosen words:
She scarcely limps, nor does she often flutter along the
ground, on such occasions; but with half extended wings, inclining
her head to one side, and uttering a soft murmur, she moves to and
fro, urging her young to hasten towards some secure spot beyond
the reach of their enemies. Regardless of her own danger, she
would to all appearance gladly suffer herself to be seized, could
she be assured that by such a sacrifice she might ensure the
safety of her brood. On an occasion of this kind, I saw a female
woodcock lay herself down on the middle of the road, as if she
were dead, while her little ones, five in number, were endeavoring
on feeble legs to escape from a pack of naughty boys, who had
already caught one of them, and were kicking it over the dust in
barbarous sport. The mother might have shared the same fate, had I
not happened to issue from the thicket, and interpose on her
behalf.
Plumages--The downy young
woodcock, when newly hatched, is conspicuously and handsomely
marked; the upper parts are "warm buff" or "light
ochraceous buff," distinctively marked with rich "seal
brown"; these markings consist (with some individual
variation) of a large, central crown patch, extending in a stripe
down the forehead, a large occipital patch, a stripe from the bill
through the eye to the occiput, a broad stripe down the center and
one down each side of the back, a patch on each wing and each
thigh and irregular markings on the sides of the head and neck;
the under parts are more rufous, "pinkish cinnamon" or
"cinnamon buff," and unmarked.
The juvenal plumage appears at an early age, coming in first on
the back and wings; the wings grow rapidly, and the young bird can
fly long before it is fully grown. This plumage is much like that
of the adult, but it can be distinguished during the first summer
by its looser texture and by broader brown edgings on the wing
coverts, scapulars, and tertials. A prolonged postnuptial molt of
the body plumage during late summer and fall produces a first
winter plumage which is nearly adult. At the first prenuptial
molt, in late winter and spring, young birds become
indistinguishable from adults.
Adults have an incomplete prenuptial molt, involving the body
plumage, some wing coverts, scapulars, and tertials, in late
winter and early spring, and a complete postnuptial molt in July
and August. Fall birds are much more richly colored than spring
adults.
Food.--The woodcock is a voracious
feeder; its principal food is earthworms or angleworms, of which
it has been known to eat more than its own weight in 24 hours. It
is said to feed mainly at night or during the long hours of
twilight or dusk. The worms are obtained by probing in mud or damp
earth in any place where worms are to be found, including gardens
and cultivated fields. The long bill of the woodcock is well
supplied with sensitive nerves, in which the sense of touch is
highly developed; it can detect the movements of a worm in the
soil and capture it by probing. Numerous borings are often seen
close together, indicating that the bird does not always strike
the worm at the first stab. Probably its keen ears also help to
locate its prey. It is said to beat the soft ground with its feet
or wings, which is supposed to suggest the effect of pattering
rain and draw the worms toward the surface.
C. J. Maynard (1896) made the following observations on a
captive bird:
The floor of its house was covered to the depth of four or
five inches with dark-colored loam, in which I planted a quantity
of weeds, beneath which the woodcock could hide. I would drop a
number of worms on this soil, which, as the bird was too shy to
feed at first, had ample time to bury themselves. At times,
however, I was able to watch the bird unseen by it; then the
woodcock, which had remained hidden in the corner behind the
sheltering weeds, would emerge cautiously and walk over the
ground, slowly and deliberately, pausing every instant or two as
if listening intently. Then he would stamp with one foot, giving
several sharp, quick blows, after which he would bow his head near
the ground and again listen. Then suddenly he would turn either to
the right of left or take a step or two forward, plunge his bill
into the earth, and draw out a worm which he would swallow, then
repeat this performance until all the worms were eaten.
During dry spells, when the worms have returned to the subsoil,
the woodcock must seek other foods. It then resorts to the woods,
where it turns over the leaves in search of grubs, slugs, insects,
and larvae. It has even been known to eat grasshoppers. Mr. Rich
(1907) says that in early spring, before the alder covers are
open, it feeds on ants. Frederick S. Webster (1887) reports a
singular case, where the crop of a woodcock was crammed full of
leaves of a common fern.
Behavior.--The woodcock is so
nocturnal or crepuscular in its habits that it remains quietly
hidden in its favorite covers during the day and is seldom seen to
fly unless disturbed, when it flutters up through the trees with a
weak, irregular, or zig-zag flight, dodging the branches. When
clear of obstructions, it flies more swiftly and directly, but
usually for only a short distance, and soon pitches down into the
cover again. One can usually follow it and flush it again and
again. Toward dusk it becomes much more active, and its shadowy
form is often seen flying over the tree tops and across open
places to its feeding grounds. At such times its flight is steady
and direct, with regular wing strokes; its chunky form with its
long bill pointing downward is easily recognized. While traveling
at night its flight is quite swift. When rising in flight the
woodcock produces, usually but not always, a distinct whistling or
twittering sound. This has led to much discussion and differences
of opinion, as to whether the sound is produced by the wings or is
vocal. I am inclined to the latter theory, for I have often seen a
woodcock fly without whistling, and many others have referred to
such a flight.
Few of us have ever seen a woodcock alight in a tree, but Mr.
Rich (1907) refers to several instances where the bird has been
seen to do this by reliable witnesses. Once he himself shot one in
the act.
Voice.--Except during the
spectacular song-flight and courtship performance, the woodcock is
a very silent bird, unless we regard the twittering heard when it
rises as vocal. Mr. Nichols says in his notes:
The quality of the twitter of a rising woodcock corresponds
more or less to the character of its flight. When, as is
frequently the case, the bird merely flutters a short distance to
drop again behind the screen of undergrowth, it amounts to little
more than the chirping of crickets. On one occasion when I
observed an individual barely escape the attack of an Accipiter,
this sound, as it rose, was less shrill and loud than often, but
more rapid and sustained, with an incisive quality suggesting a
rattlesnake's alarm. When a woodcock rises through thick brush or
brambles its wings make a whirring sound not unlike that of the
bob white, accompanied by a slight twitter.
Mr. Brewster (1925) writes:
Many years ago I expressed in print a belief that the
whistling sound made by a rising woodcock is produced by the
bird's wings. This conviction has since been confirmed by field
experience at the lake with woodcock killed during the first half
of September, and in varying conditions of moult. Such of them as
still retained or had just renewed the attenuated outer primaries,
almost always whistled when flushed, whereas no sound other than a
dull fluttering one was ever heard from any of those not thus
equipped. Hence I continue to hold firmly to the opinion that the
woodcock's clear, silvery whistle emanates from these
"whistling quills," as sportsmen fitly term them, and
not from the bird's throat. There are, however, certain sounds,
not very much unlike those which combine to form the usual
characteristic whistle, but more disconnected and twittering,
which may be of vocal origin. One hears them oftenest from the
woodcock hovering, just before alighting, and flitting low over
the ground for trifling distances, beating their wings rather
listlessly. This comparatively slow pulsation of the wings might
account for the interrupted sequence of the sounds, but not
perhaps, for their seemingly throaty quality.
Edward H. Forbush (1925) quotes three observers, as follows:
Mr. W. H. Harris asserts that he held a woodcock by the bill
which whistled three times with a rotary motion of body and wings.
Mr. J. M. Dinsmore held a woodcock by the body and wings to
prevent movement of these parts, and he says that this bird
whistled through its mouth and throat. Mr. H. Austin avers that he
flushed a woodcock that did not whistle, marked the bird and put
him up again when he whistled, which indicates that the bird may
have made the sound with its vocal equipment.
Fall.---The following from the pen of
Mr. Forbush (1912) illustrates the conditions which affect the
fall flight:
The flights of birds from the North have not diminished in
number so much as have the native birds. Occasionally a large
flight stops here, as in early November, 1908, when woodcock were
plentiful here, and when some gunners in Connecticut secured from
20 to 40 birds each in a day. This flight did not denote such an
increase in the number of these birds, however, as generally was
believed. The explanation is that they all came at once. The
birds in Maine and the Provinces had a good breeding season, and
they must have had a plentiful supply of food, for the autumn
weather was mild, and they mostly remained in their northern homes
until nearly the 1st of November. Flight birds were rare in
Massachusetts up to that time, and the bags were small. The fall
had been warm and dry, but on October 29 and 30 New England and
the Provinces experienced a severe northeast storm along the
seaboard, followed by a cold northwest wind, which probably froze
up the northern feeding grounds, if the storm had not already
buried them in snow. Either or both of these conditions drove the
woodcock into southern New England. My correspondence shows that
this flight landed in every county of Massachusetts except Dukes
and Nantucket. As usual, comparatively few were seen in Barnstable
County. Connecticut covers harbored many woodcock from about
November 12 to November 20. There were many in Rhode Island, and
the flight was noted as far south as Delaware.
Game.--It is as a game bird that the
woodcock is best known, most beloved, and most popular, for it is
a prince among game birds, and its flesh is a delight to the
palate of an epicure. What sportsman will not stop in his pursuit
of other game to hunt some favorite corner, some woodland border,
or some brushy hillside where he has flushed this bird of mystery
before? And what a thrill he gets as the brown ball of feathers
suddenly flutters up from almost underfoot among the crisp autumn
leaves, dodging up through the branches with a whistled note of
warning, and flies away over the treetops! Perhaps he was too
surprised at first to shoot; but, if he marked it down, he can
soon flush it again, for it has not gone far; then, if he is quick
and true at snap shooting, he may pick up the coveted prize,
admire the soft, warm, ruddy breast, the pretty pattern of
woodland light and shades, the delicate long bill, and the big
liquid eyes. An aristocrat among game birds!
In the early days when I first began shooting, summer woodcock
shooting was regularly practiced; the season opened in July, when
the young birds of late broods were not large enough to furnish
good sport and were not fit for the table. Moreover, the weather
was often hot and the foliage was dense, making it unsatisfactory
for the sportsmen. The only excuse for it was that it allowed some
shooting in certain sections where local birds departed early and
where flight birds seldom occurred. It went far towards
exterminating local breeding birds in Massachusetts; it was bad
for all concerned, and it is well that it was abandoned.
From the above and other causes woodcocks have decreased
alarmingly during the past 50 years. One gets an impressive idea
of the former abundance of the birds by reading the quaint
shooting tales of Frank Forester, in which he boasts of having
shot with a friend 125 birds in one day and 70 the next day before
noon, and this with the old-fashioned muzzle-loading guns. His
hunting trips were joyous occasions, in which the noonday
luncheon, washed down with ample draughts of applejack, held a
prominent place.
By far the best shooting is to be had on flight birds, which
are big and fat and strong on the wing. In warm weather they
frequent the black alder thickets where there are bunches of grass
and weeds, or the vicinity of brooks or springs where there is a
growth of alders, willows, and birches. On crisp, cold days in
October they may be found on sunny hillsides or ridges, among
birches, bayberries, or huckleberries, on the sunny edges of the
woods, in cedar pastures, in locust scrub, or even in old scrubby
orchards. For shooting in thick cover a light short-barreled gun
that scatters well is desirable, for snapshots at short range are
often necessary. I prefer a light charge of fine shot, which
scatters more and does not tear the birds so badly. A good dog
adds much to the pleasure of hunting and is very helpful in
locating or retrieving birds. The birds will sometimes run for
short distances before a setter or pointer, and it is often
necessary for the shooter to flush his own bird, which may place
him in a poor position to shoot. Therefore a well-trained spaniel,
which runs around close to the shooter and flushes the birds, is
generally more satisfactory.
For those who have no dog, or prefer to hunt without one, there
is another method of shooting woodcocks which can be practiced
successfully by one who is sufficiently familiar with their haunts
and habits. From their haunts on the uplands, where they rest
during the day, the birds fly through the open just before dark to
their favorite feeding place along some swampy run or boggy
thicket, resorting regularly to the same spot night after night.
If the shooter knows of such a place, where the birds are fairly
plentiful, he can station himself there about sunset and feel
reasonably sure of a few shots during the brief time that the
birds are coming in. But increasing darkness soon makes shooting
difficult.
Enemies.--Like other ground
nesting birds, woodcocks undoubtedly have many natural enemies
among the predatory animals and birds; but these have always
existed without detriment to the species. As has often been said,
predatory birds and animals destroy mainly the weak and diseased
individuals, which are the most easily caught; the stronger and
more vigorous individuals are more likely to escape and perpetrate
a hardier race, better fitted to survive.
The natural elements often take their toll in a wholesale
destruction. Arthur T. Wayne (1910) relates the effect of a cold
wave on the coast of South Carolina, February 13 and 14, 1899,
when the thermometer dropped to 14o
and the ground was covered with deep snow; he writes:
The woodcock arrived in countless thousands. Prior to their
arrival I had seen but two birds the entire winter. They were
everywhere and were completely bewildered. Tens of thousands were
killed by would-be sportsmen, and thousands were frozen to death.
The great majority were so emaciated that they were practically
feathers and of course were unable to withstand the cold. One man
killed 200 pairs in a few hours. I shot a dozen birds. Late
Tuesday afternoon I easily caught several birds on the snow and
put them into a thawed spot on the edge of a swift running stream
in order that they would not perish, but upon going to the place
the next morning I found one frozen. These were fearfully
emaciated and could scarcely fly. Two birds were killed in
Charleston in Broad Street. It will be many years before this fine
bird can establish itself under most favorable conditions.
Telegraph and other wires cause the death of thousands of
birds. Woodcocks migrate at night and fly low; if they strike
head, bill, or breast against a wire it means almost certain
death. Many dead birds are picked up under wires. Wires are
increasing all the time and it is to be hoped that the birds will
learn to avoid them.
But the main cause of the woodcock's disappearance is excessive
hunting of a bird too easily killed, summer shooting in the North,
and wholesale slaughter during a long winter season in the South.
A good account of the barbarous sport, called fire hunting, as
practiced in Louisiana, is given by Dr. E. J. Lewis (1885), as
follows:
The shooter, armed with a double-barreled gun, and decked
with a broad-brimmed palmetto hat, sallies forth on a foggy night
to the "ridge," where the cocks are now feeding in
wonderful numbers. His companion on these expeditions is generally
a stout-built negro, bearing before him a species of old-fashioned
warming pan, in which is deposited a goodly supply of pine knots.
Having arrived on the ground, the cocks are soon heard whizzing
about on every side; the pine knots are quickly kindled into a
flame, and carried over the head of the negro. The shooter keeps
as much as possible in the shade, with his broad-brimmed palmetto
protecting his eyes from the glare, and follows close after the
torch bearer, who walks slowly ahead. The cocks are soon seen
sitting about on the ground, staring widely around in mute
astonishment, not knowing what to do, and are easily knocked over
with a slight pop of the gun, or more scientifically brought to
the ground as they go booming off to the marshes.
The lurid glare of the torch only extends to a distance of
20 yards or so around the negro; the sportsman must, therefore, be
on the quivive to knock the birds over as soon as they
rise, otherwise they will immediately be shrouded in the
impenetrable darkness of night.
These excursions are carried on with great spirit, sometimes
continue the whole night through, and the slaughter of the cocks
is often very great; with an experienced "fire hunter"
it is no unusual occurrence to bag in this way 50 couple before
morning.
American Woodcock*
Scolopax minor
*Original Source: Bent,
Arthur Cleveland. 1927. Smithsonian Institution United
States National Museum Bulletin 142 (Part 1): 61-78. United States
Government Printing Office
Return
to FAMILIAR BIRDS Home Page
Return to
beginning of document
|
