Dawn was still an orange glow, with decoys barely discernible, as a winter morning came to life. Would cupped wings bring a heightened awareness to the day if we were so fortunate? If this dawn was like the rest, the key word to describe the outcome would be disappointment…capitalized! Carley Simon must have had the waterfowl hunter in the back of her mind when she wrote the lead single in 1971, “Anticipation.” In just moments, the story would unfold.
At just the right moment, as if on cue, a rush of air through the outer primary wing feathers brought us to full alert. The zigzagging and banking of the spiralling bird sent a sense of urgency to grip the stock and reach for the safeties of the shotguns. Finally, would it all come together? But wait, instead of the chuckle of the guttural feed call of the mallard with set wings, our outer ears picked up a chirping, almost melodious, twittering sound. For a moment we were confused, somewhat perplexed. The mystery was solved instantaneously however, when we were greeted to the unmistakable sound of a buzzy “peent.” The bird, that passed over our makeshift blind of Johnson Grass, was immediately recognized as the American Woodcock.
Scolopax minor, the scientific name of this plump bird, has short legs, a rounded head, and a long, prehensile bill. Also referred to as the timberdoodle, bogsucker, hokumpoke, and the Labrador twister, plumage of this bird is a cryptic mix of different shades of browns, grays, and black. The nape of the neck is black, with three or four crossbars of deep buff or rufous. Woodcocks have large eyes located high on their heads, and their visual field is reported to be the largest of any bird, 360 degrees in the horizontal plane, and 180 degrees in the vertical plane.
This upland game bird, found in forested and agricultural areas, uses its long, prehensile bill to probe the rich soils for invertebrates, especially earthworms. A unique bone-and-muscle arrangement lets the bird open and close the tip of its upper bill, or mandible, while it is “sunk” in the ground. Both the underside and upper mandible and the long tongue are rough surfaced for grasping slippery prey. Feeding primarily in moist soils, they forage in the soft soils of thickets, where they usually remain well-hidden. In addition to earthworms, their diet includes insect larvae, snails, centipedes, spiders, and ants. It has been documented they will consume plant food, mainly seeds, but to a much lesser degree than invertebrates.
In spring, males occupy “singing” territories from which they will call and display, on moonlit nights, for the attraction of a female. You sly devil, you! Females, known as hens, are attracted to the male’s displays. A hen will fly in and land on the ground near a singing male. The male courts the female by walking stiff-legged with his wings stretched vertically, while bobbing and bowing. This ritual almost resembles that of the wild turkey, don’t you agree?
The hen usually makes a shallow, rudimentary nest on the ground in the leaf and twig litter, in brushy draws. The clutch is normally three to four eggs which hatch in three to four weeks. Down covered young are precocial and leave the nest within a few hours of hatching. Mother Woodcock broods her young and feeds them. Their camouflage is flawless making Mossy Oak jealous, I am sure. I have watched a woodcock land on the hardwood bottom floor beneath my feet, and it was indeed the challenge to pick “him” out even though I was staring at the bird. Maybe the next brand of camo should be named “American Woodcock.” Don’t get me wrong, the Bobwhite is just as impressive when it comes to concealment. Maybe we should put this up for a vote.
Woodcock fledglings begin probing for worms on their own a few days after hatching. Some observers suggest that frightened young may cling to the body of their mother that will then take wing and carry her young to safety. If this is true, it is indeed and novel mechanism for survival.
The population of the American Woodcock has fallen by an average of slightly more than 1% annually since the 1960s. Most authorities attribute this decline to a loss of habitat caused by forest maturation and urban development. Hello! Did you read my recent article about “boxing” in wildlife? You don’t think I know something about the swamps and the critters that inhabit them? Now, this reminds me of a story, and I can’t help but tell it on myself. I hope this is grammatically correct, but I’m sure if it’s not, Kathy Smith will let me know. Judge, ask her to please, be kind. Anyway, I was informing my grandfather, a cotton producer in Attala County back in the day, how damaging the tarnished plant bug could be on squaring cotton. He doubted my knowledge at the time and proceeded to say, and I laugh about it now, “Jeffrey, yo mind ain’t no good, but you always thinking.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told this story. But back to the woodcock.
In 2008, wildlife biologists and conservationists released an American woodcock conservation plan presenting figures for the acreage of early successional habitat that must be created and maintained in the U.S. and Canada to stabilize the woodcock population at current levels and return it to 1970s densities. This noble bird is not considered to be globally threatened, however declining populations does spark awareness of the possibility it could become threatened. By creating young-forest habitat, we can help ensure the population of this species remains at least stable, and possibly increases. Not to mention, this reforestation endeavor will also help other species such as the white-tailed deer, wild turkey, ruffed grouse, snowshoe hare, and other species whose populations have declined in recent decades.
Decades ago, my dad purchased 80 acres of land north of Pelahatchie. He cut the timber to help pay for the property and used some of the funds received from the timber sale to build a lake. That winter, the property was a mecca for migrating woodcock. One Friday afternoon, our family made the trek to look at the progress of the lake he was building. He told me to pack my 20 gauge and some “birdshells” and maybe I could jump-shoot a few woodcocks. The birds were plentiful, and I stomped the terrain flushing and shooting the feathered bombshells. Mom got tired of waiting on me to return to the car and persuaded dad to go home without me. Can you imagine leaving a 14 for himself?
I finally ended my hunt, and my uncle was putting the finishing touch on the lake dam. He gave me a ride back to Brandon and when I walked into the kitchen, with my two woodcocks and a cottontail, my dad was elated. He doted on me stating, “the boy brought the game home for dinner.” Mom, still not too happy, just casually looked my way and barely smiled. It wasn’t my fault it took me all afternoon to collect my bounty from the swamp. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Regarding table fare, the woodcock was my dad’s favorite gamebird. He rated it above teal, wood ducks, and quail. His recipe was the best I have ever enjoyed when it came to upland birds. In fact, he added my two birds to the four he collected a few days before and created a dish that almost made our Thanksgiving dinner, pale in comparison. Though he never said anything about it, even mom cleaned her plate of roasted woodcock with cranberries and sweet potatoes that memorable Saturday night.
Though they are hard to find, you might just happen upon a few of these birds if you stand quietly along the edge of a field that borders a creek bottom at dawn or dusk. Bird dogs will point them, but alas, this is almost a lost tradition too. Do a little research, and if you study long enough you may find a small oasis that will offer you an opportunity to witness the flight of this gamebird and who knows, you may even be fortunate enough to share the experience with your son or daughter as well. Be patient, mom, your kids could be in worse places than the woodcock swamp.
Until next time enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.
For comments or questions email jeff.north@azelis.com
