Common snipe by Tim Wallace.
A favorite spring activity of mine is woodcocking. It wasn’t until the early1980s that I discovered woodcock enacted their marvelous nuptial displays just a short walk from where I grew up. Perhaps, the connection was a consequence of reading Aldo Leopold’s “Sky Dance,” his lovely account of the display in Sand County Almanac. (The first few times Cindy and I went in pursuit of the birds we did not see any so she was convinced that the promise of woodcock, like snipe, was merely a ruse concocted by nature nerds to get girls to join them in the woods at night. To which the socially inept young naturalist might have replied, “Yucch. This is about a really neat bird.”) It is also one of those excursions where you can recruit non-birders and wrap it up with a nice dinner package.
One local challenge is that fewer and fewer sites are accessible at night but fortunately some still are. In recent years most of my woodcock outings have been at Wolf Road Prairie, a fascinating prairie just seven minutes from where I live. Last Saturday, the focus of our attention was Middle Fork Savanna, in Lake Forest, Illinois. High quality savanna, prairie, and marsh form a preserve of great biological diversity. I had never looked for woodcock here but I was told where the birds have been dancing.
Due to the pressures of ppigeons, there are a number of people I have not seen for awhile and I thought this would be a good chance. So Cindy and I were joined by Jim Brown and his six-year old Stephen, Tim Wallace, and documentary filmmaker David McGowan. I told everyone to meet at 4:30, which was probably about two hours early. We arrived first and scoped out the location. The highlight of our walk was four common snipe. When everyone assembled we decided to have dinner at a very conveniently located spot called the Silo.
Can't start 'em too young! Stephen Brown, with binos, and Jim Brown.
Back in the field, we lined up along the trail and I strained to hear the first buzzy peent of an amorous male woodcock. As much as I love the sounds of chorus frogs, geese, and other springtime choristers, they actually were making it difficult to hear the more subtle vocalizations of the woodcock. If there is one thing about Middle Fork that detracts from this sort of activity it is the busy train track that forms its western boundary and its contributions to the ambient noise level was most definitely not appreciated.
While still on the ground the male woodcock issues the peent. Then he launches himself skyward, producing a low twitter. On the descent, he glides earthward, a point in the proceedings announced by yet a different sound, that of the air through the wings. This to me sounds like a squeegee across wet glass. There is a relatively narrow window when the birds take to flight and it gets too dark to see them. At best you can watch the silhouettes against the rapidly darkening western sky. We eventually did hear some but never saw them.
Far louder, and taking me a moment to place it, were the other worldly sounds of the common snipe as it too engages in its aerial courtship ritual. It lacks the nuances of the woodcock but is really more dramatic, at least the noise is. Imagine tying an object to the end of a rope and twirling it vigorously- the loud woo, woo, who approximates the snipe. “One is both thrilled and puzzled when he hears it for the first time, for it seems like a disembodied sound, the sighing of some wandering spirit,” wrote Arthur Cleveland Bent. They were crisscrossing the sky right over our heads at times. And as Bent suggests, the notes can be almost be spooky. Unfortunately, we never could see them despite their closeness. In comparison to woodcock, there are many fewer places around here where you can hear snipe so I was thrilled.
If you fancy another and want to suggest a pleasant place to fraternize on an early spring night, I would heartily recommend Middle Fork Savanna. But you may not find the privacy you seek- those dang birders.
American woodcock photo by Darlene Friedman.
Tim, Stephen, Jim, David, and Cindy
