70 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. i8, 1913 
I fancy that the woodcock is a brave bird, 
not timid. I have seen them strut away like 
little turkey cocks from the pointing dog with 
that absurd little tail spread and drooping wings. 
They would make interesting pets if the diffi¬ 
culty in supplying them with proper food could 
be overcome. This has been done in the past 
by filling deep-sided pans with soft loam and 
keeping them well stocked with worms, but Mr. 
and Mrs. Woodcock have fine large appetites and 
good digestions. I am tempted to tell the story 
of a captive woodcock as I remember it, but will 
only say that it did not object to the dogs point¬ 
ing it as much as they pleased, and that it en¬ 
joyed standing on one leg before the fire in the 
sitting room. The first, second and third primary 
feathers in the woodcock’s wings resemble long 
narrow saber or sword blades, and these I be¬ 
lieve make the ringing sound which is heard 
when the bird rises, although it can fly quietly. 
It has a funny habit, at dusk and after, in the 
breeding season, of rising in the air and then 
dropping straight down with wings extended, but 
with quill feathers turned to allow the air to 
pass through them, making a sort of buzzing 
difficult to describe. They have many queer 
tricks and ways, and often raise their broods 
in peculiar places—in the back yards and vege¬ 
table gardens of a village, for instance, and I 
once saw a single bird in a large deserted flower 
garden in a Southern city of 60000 inhabitants. 
The house had been sold and rebuilding given 
over for a time. The month was July. 
I could talk about woodcock until the end 
of time. Everywhere in mountainous and hilly 
districts, in plains and valleys, where there is 
food, pure water and good cover, woodcock find 
breeding places. The tiniest trout brook with 
a little feeding or boring ground along the edges 
will suffice for a pair or two. At the season of 
the moult in August they usually change ground 
or scatter. They may be found on higher land 
or in tall corn growing in rich soil, particularly 
if there are low moist spots in the field. In fact, 
a bird may be found in most unlikely places in 
August and September. 
In the Southland there are enormous tracts 
of swamp and river bottoms which afford safe 
winter quarters for woodcock. Ijut an intense 
cold wave, or sudden drop to freezing tempera¬ 
ture, may force them to move further south and 
possibly concentrate more or less on easier 
ground for a few days until the return of milder 
weather. 
I once found evidences of a great flight in 
Florida near the Gulf coast after a very severe 
norther, but the birds only remained during the 
worst of the cold wave. 
Most of my disappointments as well as big 
bags in woodcock and English snipe shooting 
have been due to sudden changes in the weather 
both north and south. For instance, hearing of 
a flight I drove thirty-six miles for three birds. 
I was a day too late. Upon another occasion my 
dogs and self worked hard all day in one of 
the finest river swamps in the country and re¬ 
treated on our base, a deserted house in which 
we camned alone. That very night a lot of 
woodcock dropned into and around the smaller 
swamps near the house, and next day we had 
fine shooting under ideal conditions and with a 
brace of dogs that worked to perfection. 
The best of sport is to be had in some of 
the Northern States during the month of October 
and early November in those long swales watered 
by bubbling springs and small streams where 
there is all sorts of cover and feed, and where 
one is often in doubt as to what will rise to the 
dog’s point; it may be quail, woodcock or ruffed 
grouse. I have killed a quail with the right and 
a woodcock with the left barrel, and was not 
sure which bird the dog was pointing. 
But I must call a halt. It requires such a 
little thing to start one going. A perfect pano¬ 
rama of landscapes and scenery of the most 
varied description unwinds somewhere in one’s 
brain. A lot of wonderful dogs (the best ever) 
prance about and do surprising and interesting 
stunts. A thousand incidents of the chase scurry 
through the mind, and all for such a trifle. 
Yet after all a good deal has gone into that 
trifle. It must be harmonious in coloration as 
is the plumage of a woodcock. Let us see what 
makes the ‘‘Timberdoodle” : 
Two wing feathers (strips) from two wood¬ 
cock, one shot by A. H. Caspary, of New York, 
one by myself, a small feather from the butt of 
the wing, a feather from a bright red cock, 
saved for me by B. W. LeRoy until said cock 
got too nasty and overbearing with the other 
chickens, a pinch from the hide of one of the 
fur-bearing animals of North America trapped 
by young Times, a nice boy: narrow gold tinsel 
given me by ]\I. F. Kiffee, of Columbus Ohio, 
and lastly a proper tail from the mottled feather 
of a wild duck. 
The American woodcock is much smaller 
than the European bird, the heaviest I have had 
record of not exceeding ten ounces in weight, 
while I have heard of Irish and Welsh wood¬ 
cock that weighed as much as seventeen or eigh¬ 
teen ounces. Our bird is very handsome, how¬ 
ever. and affords better sport over setters or 
nointers. On the other side of th“ ocean men 
and boys are employed as beaters to flush the 
birds. .Spaniels are used to some extent and 
retrievers to find the dead birds. I inclose 
feathers from both birds, so that the editor may 
compare the beautifully mottled plumage. The 
habit of picking up feathers wherever found 
sometimes leads to interesting discoveries. Such 
for instance as that there are two distinct varie¬ 
ties of wild mallards in America. One of them 
is decidedly rare at the present time T found 
the birds in New York. The female woodcock 
is larger than the male. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
Mv neighbor’s son is the proud possessor 
of a “fighter” rooster, which has enough game 
blood to make him combative, but not enough 
to carry him on to victory. 
Recently as I sat by my window I saw the 
rooster staggering down the street on his way 
home. tlis wings were dragging on the 
ground, his beak was wide open, and he was 
panting for breath. 
When he had passed out of sight up the 
drivewajq my thoughts traveled back to my 
boyhood home, and again I saw Ziba Kendall’s 
“Little Devil of a Bantam,” which ruled the street 
on which he lived. My first experience was on 
a morning when I crossed the street with a pan 
of table scraps for our neighbor’s pig. The 
bantam met me as I entered the gate and let 
me know that he expected to be served first. 
I raised the pan above my head, but it was of 
no avail. Flying up in my face, he threw me 
sprawling on my back, and, while I ran home 
crying, helped himself to the choicest bits. 
In those days picket fences were not com¬ 
mon, and Deacon Kendall’s was of flat boards, 
with one on top which made a fine promenade 
for “his wattles.” There he would take his stand, 
and if a colored man or boy passed tbe house 
he dropped to the walk behind him and 
viciously pick his heels. When the victim 
turned he would fly to the top of the fence 
and crow, and if pursued, would hop down into 
his own yard. When the man started on his 
way, the bantam would return to the attack, and 
if the negro was bare-footed, blood was sure 
to follow his blows. Sometimes a girl or 
woman who had a hole in the back of her 
stocking received his attention, but he usually 
only troubled darkies. 
One day tbe good deacon went out to feed 
his cow, and the rooster for some reason ob¬ 
jected to his master’s presence in the barn. He 
flew to the top of his head and pecked and 
clawed him unmercifully. The deacon rushed 
back to the house, his thin hair showing the 
result of the rooster’s efforts, and sent out one 
of his boys with an ax, and the “Little Devil s” 
life was ended. 
Although the deacon was a very strict 
Methodist, he had a son-in-law, Joe Tasker, 
who was far from the faith and ran a saloon 
and restaurant in Syracuse. I was in the city 
one evening and wandered into Joe Tasker’s 
restaurant. The State fair was being held in 
the city, and the restaurant was crowded. The 
bar was near the door and there were a num¬ 
ber of drunken brawlers lined up in front of it. 
Suddenly a fight started, and one man standing 
at the end of the bar drew a revolver and threw 
it up to shoot. Before he could pull the trig¬ 
ger, a man near him reached down to a table 
where a dinner had just been served with a 
large steak and grabbed the steak, slapping it 
over the gunman’s face, blinding him with 
grease and gravy, and with the other hand 
twisted the revolver away from the would-be 
shooter. 
The picture of the bad man with blood and 
butter running down his face as he was thrown 
out of the door is a vivid one. 
Grizzly King. 
Seizure Under the New York Law. 
A RECENT raid in New York city resulted in 
the seizure of 900 hummingbirds and many gulls, 
herons and swifts, which were offered for sale 
in disregard of the Shea law prohibiting pos¬ 
session for sale of birds of the same families 
as birds native to the State of New York. 
This magazine is published on the funda¬ 
mental principle that what its readers are pay¬ 
ing for is Forest and Stre.\m. 
