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Woodcock — Part 2
Images coming soon.
By the first of August the woodcocks, deserting the low, wet lands, scatter themselves over the country in corn fields, grassy meadows, birch covered hillsides, "alder runs," pine forests, and thick, cool, moist undergrowth, near woods; and now they moult. No whistling of wings can be heard as the birds heavily labor along near the ground, often unable to raise their denuded bodies higher. In September, when the sportsmen make sad havoc in the flocks, already gathering for migration, they are found in the dense thickets of wooded uplands, where a stream flows to keep the ground soft; and in October, when the birds are in prime condition, the spot that contained scores at evening may hold none by morning. The russet colored birds mingle with the russet colored leaves, and, as they lie close, it takes a good dog to find them. The woodcocks migrate silently by night, and an early frost, that stiffens the ground, drives them off suddenly to softer territory southward. Hence the delightful element of uncertainty enters into the hunting of this bird, that is here to-day and gone to-morrow. When flushed, its flight appears to be feeble, as, after a few whistles of its short, stiff wings, and trailing its legs behind it, it quickly drops into cover again, running a little distance on alighting, but the distances covered in migrations prove it to be no unskilled flier.