WOODCOCK 
“ roding,” or the birds which are flushed in the morning after a heavy 
gorge of worms overnight, when they flap along almost like short-eared 
owls, can be really the same dashing woodcocks one meets with at other 
times. 
When food is scarce the birds are active enough, and rising sharply, 
twist swiftly through the trees in a fashion that admits of no hesitancy 
on the part of the shooter. Flight is performed with the wings bent, and 
with regular, not very swift, wing-beats. The bill is pointed downwards, 
and the legs, as is usual among all the wading -tribe, are fully extended 
behind the tail. The angle at which the bill is held during flight is no 
doubt a matter of necessity ; for the eye is placed so abnormally far back in 
the head that the birds are incapable of seeing what is in front when the 
bill is pointing forward. 
Migration . — ^The pace at which woodcocks can travel on migration must 
be very great indeed, and probably enables them to compass the long 
distance between Scandinavia and the East coast of Scotland in a couple 
of hours, or less under favourable conditions. Migration, which normally 
follows the usual westerly route, always takes place at night, the birds 
starting at dusk and arriving at their destination long before dawn, ex- 
cept when their movements have been delayed by unfavourable weather 
and gales which have driven them out of their course. They fly at a great 
height, and, like all other migrants, prefer a side wind when making their 
journey ; also greater numbers arrive on thick misty nights than in clear 
weather. The inherited instinct which enables them to find their way in 
thick weather and guides them to the same destination year by year is 
truly marvellous. Many perish during their bi-annual flights, when over- 
taken by contrary gales, as is proved by the numbers of drowned birds 
seen off the west coast of Ireland. Like other migrants, too, many kill 
themselves against the lighthouses. The birds are often so utterly ex- 
hausted on arrival at the coast that they are scarcely able to rise again. 
In a letter published in the “ Evening Standard and St James’s 
Gazette,” March 13, 1912, a correspondent furnishes the following in- 
teresting details, which we quote in full, of the havoc wrought by some 
of the French lighthouses : “ Everybody knows what a powerful attraction 
lighthouses have for birds, and how the one on Heligoland especially is 
the centre in migration times in spring and autumn of vast swarms of 
birds, many of whom, half-blinded by the light, dash themselves against 
the glass or the masonry and perish. The extent of this slaughter is for 
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