Timberdoodles!

This is American Woodcock (Scolopax minor) country. Actually, this time of year, practically anywhere is American Woodcock country: backyards, bars, porches, Park Avenue medians, DUMBO parking garages. Yes, I’ve heard cases of them appearing in all these places. I’ve written a poem in which I refer to them bombarding us during the migration seasons; I’d link to the poem if only the swines would publish it already.Ken Chaya spotted this bird in the shade of a tree. The two of us circled along the path to try to get a better view, this time with the sun behind us. Success.Soon enough, the Central Park Effect — I believe they use small goat-skin drums to signal the news — had the bird bookended.But, considering all the human attention, it was actually a couple of squabbling squirrels that made this bird jump into a better position for our eyeballs and lenses.This enormous beak is used to probe in soft damp earth for worms and other delights. Technically shorebirds, they prefer woods and adjacent meadows as their habitat.

The night before, a few of us had gone out to Floyd Bennett Field to witness the courtship ritual of these birds, also known as Timberdoodles. After sunset, the males come out into open meadows and start to vocalize a sound described as “peent” or “beent,” but with more of a wet buzziness to it. Then they fly around twittering, both vocalizing some more and creating sounds with their wings. This is said to really impress the ladies. You can barely see because it’s become so dark, but the sounds are, on a good night, all around. Note the huge eyes on these birds; they do their best work at night.

My friend Gabriel Willow will be doing a field trip for this “sky-dance” on April 18th for NYC Audubon. I’m doing one of my Listening Tours for Brooklyn Brainery this weekend, when we also hope to hear spring peepers (it’s sold out — but check out their other classes and always keep a weather eye out here for other field trips).