numbers, and are not so much confined to covers, being found in
open weather scattered through all the sheltered glens where there
is any brushwood or even bracken. On the occurrence of frost,
however, they all gather to the low-lying covers near the sea,
where its influence serves to keep open the springs; and in such
weather very large bags are often made, as they seem to come not
only from the outlying spots above mentioned, but from the inland
districts, where the frost has sealed up every one of their usual
haunts.
DISTRIBUTION
_Breeding range._--Northern Europe and Asia. North in Scandinavia to
latitude 67°, in Lapland and Finland, in western Russia to 65°, and in
eastern Russia to 64°. East to the Sea of Okhotsk. West to the British
Isles. South to the Azores, Canaries, and Madeira (where it is
resident), the Pyrenees, Alps, Transylvania, Carpathians, Himalayas (up
to 10,000 feet), Mongolia, and Japan.
_Winter range._--Great Britain, the Mediterranean basin, northern Africa
and southern Asia, Persia, India, Burma, China, Japan, and occasionally
Ceylon.
_Casual records._--Casual in the Faeroes, Spitsbergen, Greenland, and
North America. Prof. Wells W. Cooke (1912) says:
It wanders occasionally to eastern North America, and has occurred
in Loudoun County, Va., in 1873 (Coues); Chester County, Pa., the
end of November, 1886 (Stone); one was taken near Shrewsbury, N.
J., December 6, 1859 (Lawrence); one, September, 1889, somewhere in
New Jersey (Warren); one, probably of this species, near Newport,
R. I. (Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway); one at Chambly, Quebec,
November 11, 1882 (Wintle); and one at St. John, Newfoundland,
January 9, 1862 (Sclater).
_Egg dates._--Great Britain: 29 records, March 9 to August 5; 15
records, April 18 to June 22.
RUBICOLA MINOR (Gmelin)
AMERICAN WOODCOCK
HABITS
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 habitat 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 to-day and gone to-morrow. 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 continuously. 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. Moist 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 and again entered the woods.
No such flights can be seen to-day, 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 or 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 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 a
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 distension of the mouth was
especially striking.
Referring to the song flight, he says: "Two 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 involve 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 cat-brier, 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 a 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.