574 
FOREST AND STREAM 
October, 1918 
Only a glimpse of the bird is caught as it tops the coverts 
struck than it ran down the path past me 
and out of sight. Hunt as we would, we 
never saw the bird again. The more re¬ 
markable, as it was at least a half mile to 
any other cover. The next day we found 
the same bird—the same thing happened, 
only that I saw the bird go out and drop 
in an open pasture—walked it up and killed 
it. I firmly believe this bird had brains and 
used them. 
A LTHOUGH the woodcock is usually 
considered a stupid bird—and in sum¬ 
mer they certainly are lazy—they are 
undoubtedly much keener and wiser than 
thought to be. As a rule, when they hear 
the approach of the hunter and his dog, 
they attempt to hide and will admit of 
close approach in the hope that the in¬ 
truders will pass by. But when forced to 
flight, they have a most disconcerting way 
of climbing straight up in the air, just 
clearing the coverts, and then, after a short 
flight of a dozen yards, flopping to earth. 
It requires the quickest kind of snap shoot¬ 
ing to stop them, as only a momentary 
glimpse of them can be caught through 
the heavy cover. Sometimes the dog can 
be sent into the thicket to drive out the 
birds, the shooter remaining outside. Late 
in the season, the birds sometimes take to 
open timber. Here they fly fast, dodge in 
and out, but always make for the open 
places. 
The gun for woodcock shooting should 
be light in weight, not over six pounds, 
short of barrel, 26 or 28 inches, open-bored 
and loaded with fine shot. The 20 gauge 
answers the purpose admirably, as it opens 
up its pattern nicely at the distance most 
birds are killed. If the shot is taken when 
the birds are springing into the air, the 
aim may be well above them, but if only 
a glimpse of the bird may be caught as 
it tops the coverts, the aim should be below 
where they were last seen, as they will then 
be either dropping to the ground or con¬ 
tinuing their flight along a horizontal line. 
No account should be kept of the misses 
in woodcock shooting, and as snapshots 
are often taken through the coverts, if you 
are shooting in company, be careful that 
you do not injure your companion. 
The best description of the woodcock 
has been written by Dr. George Bird Grin- 
nell in his book “American Game Bird 
Shooting.” He says: 
The American woodcock is a small bird, 
weighing only from five to nine ounces. 
He is eleven to twelve inches in length, and 
of this the bill occupies from two and one- 
half to three inches. The plumage below 
is rich russet-brown, paling, on the upper 
breast, sides of the neck and forehead, to 
ashen-gray. The crown is black, with two 
or three crosslines of tawny, and the back 
is curiously mottled with tawny, ash-gray 
and black, the latter predominating. The 
tail feathers are black, barred with tawny, 
their tips smoky-gray on the upper side 
and snow-white beneath. The legs and feet 
are pale flesh-color, the bill dark horn 
color at the tip, becoming paler at the base, 
and the large, soft, humid eyes are brown. 
The range of the woodcock is from 
Canada south to the limits of the United 
States and west to beyond the Mississippi 
River, but the high, dry plains of the trans- 
Missouri region limit the extension of his 
range westward, for he is a bird that loves 
moisture and cool, dark thickets. 
During the “flight,” woodcock are to be 
found on bushy, stoiiy side hills; along 
ridges on the Southern slope; along bushy 
bordered rail fences and stone walls; in 
alder and birch swales, especially hilly cov¬ 
ers of this description. Different localities 
present different problems for the hunter 
and it is imperative that one know the 
likely covers and how to reach them—if 
woodcock on toast is to be part of the 
family menu. 
Speaking of menu, once I was led inter a 
noted gastronomic Emporium ’neath the 
white lights of a wicked City and found 
Scotch Woodcock ordered for the party. I 
will never forget my disappointment and 
disgust both at the dish and the sacrilege, 
when I found said Scotch bird to be cold 
storage eggs manhandled by a foreign-born 
chef, and smeared on stale toast in a chafing 
dish—why, oh why, was such a name 
brought to such shame? 
The borings of the bird—little groups 
of clean cut holes made by the long billed 
hunter of worms—and the “chalk marks,” 
white splashes made by the droppings, are 
sure clues to his presence, and one experi¬ 
enced can soon determine the fresh sign and 
is sure to flush the bird nearby. During the 
flight I have seen covers completely chalked 
up and yet found the travelers gone, show¬ 
ing that during migration they only stop 
perchance over night en route. After the 
honeymoon in the early spring—which by 
the way consists of aerial love gymnastics 
and egotistical ground performances before 
his inamorata—a few dry leaves are collect¬ 
ed usually at the root of a stump, and Mama 
and papa divide their affection and attention 
on the offspring derived from four buffy 
spotted eggs. The little, fluffy, long billed 
babies are well looked after and often 
transported to better grounds by the mother, 
who carries her family away one by one 
between her thighs. The family, barring ac¬ 
cident, thrive and come to maturity among 
the ferns and skunk cabbage until about the 
first of August, when they scatter over the 
