Our Environment: “American Woodcock Dancing Among Stars” By Scott Turner

On a night when we could have sat home, watching March Madness, we ducked-out to behold another spring ritual—American Woodcocks dancing among the stars.

Springtime brings the return of woodcocks to Rhode Island. This plump, robin-sized bird, sometimes called a timberdoodle, resides in fields and forests. A woodcock, to me, seems shaped like a small football. The species sports a relatively large head, very short neck and tail, and almost comically long bill.

Color-wise, a woodcock looks like leaf litter. It’s a collage of brown, gray and black that allows it to blend in with the ground. The bird’s belly is the color of baked red clay.

At dusk last week, I traveled with Karen to a Seekonk field. The air was cold and crisp, maybe 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The western sky glowed like a bar of gold. Stripes of magenta and blue flanked the shimmering light. We faced the twilight and waited.

As winter ends and spring begins, male woodcocks call a raspy “peent” after sunset before embarking on a wing-twittering, spiraling-up flight into the sky. When a bird reaches the apex of its journey, he breaks into a delightful-sounding series of chirps, while zigzagging back to earth.

From 50 feet to our right came the first “peent.” A second bird, maybe 50 feet to our left, answered. Then a third woodcock, about 25 feet behind us began calling.

A sudden tweeting-like whir of wings told us that a bird was on the wing. But it was behind us—in the dark eastern sky. We could not see the swirling timberdoodle, but we could tell when it was on the descent, emitting its enchanting chirps. Meanwhile, wing twittering told us that a second woodcock was aloft. It too sang ecstatically in the darkness.

By now the golden western sky was thinning and washing out into yellow and green, interrupted by reedy charcoal-colored clouds.

We stood still amidst a succession of calls, twitters and song. One bird flew right past us, uttering a series of subtle quack-like sounds. We’d never heard a woodcock chortle like that before,

A nearly full moon was well up in the sky, casting long shadows. The full moon in March, known as the last full moon of winter, is also called the worm moon. How appropriate, given that earthworms are the primary food for woodcock.

As I listened to the sweet warble of a woodcock in descent, Karen suddenly grabbed my arm and ducked her head into my shoulder.

A woodcock! The bird (bill first) came in for a landing, aimed straight at our heads. The woodcock literally arrived at our feet. Despite the relative darkness, we could distinguish the physical features of this chunky, curvy creature, tipped by a bill that looked too long for its face.

Then he began calling “peent.” That close, the sound was strident.

Let’s leave these guys alone, we whispered. We did not want to interfere with this magnificent mating ritual. Plus, the American Woodcock has seen a slow decline in numbers over the last 50+ years, with some of the most apparent losses in New England. Live and let live, we believe.

At that point, we’d received more than our share of spectacle and stimulation from the sojourn. Besides, even better than the calls of male woodcocks was the sound of hot chocolate, sipped in the warmth of our home, as we mused over our good fortune afield.

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Scott Turner is a Providence-based writer and communications professional. For more than a decade he wrote for the Providence Journal and we welcome him to GoLocalProv.com.