October means open season for upland birds, though that term could be a bit of a misnomer. Ruffed grouse are indeed more prevalent up on the aspen and beech ridges, but down in the bottomland alder runs, where the soil is wet enough to hold their preferred food – earthworms – you’ll find a rather remarkable upland bird, the American woodcock.

Most upland birds – like grouse, pheasant and quail – are gallinaceous, members of the chicken family. Taxonomically, the woodcock is a shorebird, a wayward member of the sandpiper family that long ago abandoned the coastal sand bars and salt marshes in favor of slightly more terrestrial haunts. But they still like to get their feet wet and likely find the soft, wet soil easier to probe their long bills into.

Woodcock have several unique characteristics, not the least of which is their upside-down brain. Unlike other birds, and most other creatures with an advanced central nervous system for that matter, the woodcock’s cerebellum sits below rather than above the rest of the brain. Ornithologists theorize this is an adaptation for enhanced ground-probing abilities, which is a perfect segue to another feature.

The tip of the woodcock’s bill is prehensile. This unique muscle-bone arrangement allows just the tip of the bill to act like a tweezer, opening and closing when inserted into the ground to grasp earthworms and other invertebrates.

Woodcock also have relatively large eyes placed high and well back in the skull. This affords them one of, if not the widest visual fields of any bird. They can see 360 degrees in the horizontal plane and 180 in the vertical plane. Being a ground-nesting, ground-dwelling bird, this adaptation improves their ability to spot potential predators. The larger size of their eyes also likely gives them better vision in dawn and dusk, when they are most active.

Also unlike grouse, woodcock are migratory. Frozen soil renders their favorite food inaccessible so they fly south in winter, usually migrating at night. If you’ve ever stepped outside on a cool October morning to find your lawn riddled with tiny holes, there’s a good chance the woodcock were in the neighborhood last night.

Yet another interesting aspect of the woodcock is its courtship ritual, which takes place during the spring mating season. Walk out to an abandoned field rimmed with alder, birch or aspen just after dusk and you’ll hear an electronic-sounding nasal “peent” in the falling darkness. Listen carefully and you might hear a rush of twittering wings as the bird takes flight in an ascending spiral that may reach 300 feet or more. That sound is the result of air passing through three narrow outer primary feathers. You may also hear him chirp as he returns to ground.

But it is fall that we upland hunters are most concerned with, and that same rush of wings and twittering feathers alerts us to a flush. The woodcock rises abruptly, then seems to stall momentarily before kicking in the afterburners to hasten its escape flight. If you’re lucky, you may be able to snap off a shot at the stall. If not, you’re left watching the bird’s escape through a veil of falling leaves. Fear not, however, as the woodcock’s escape flight is often short. If you follow its path you may be lucky enough to get another flush.

You need only a pocketful of light field loads and a pair of waterproof boots to pursue the woodcock, but the most effective and enjoyable way is with the aid of dogs. Tiny holes in the muddy soil and the white paint of their droppings indicate the flight birds are in. The dogs twist and turn through the alder runs, tails wagging excitedly before they lock up on point. You move in slowly, the bird flushes and both barrels are emptied. Whether it’s feathers or just leaves that flitter to the ground, the hunt is a success.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and registered Maine guide who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at:

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