Nature by Travis Bonovsky posted: " I apologize for such a long time in-between posts here. With this new job of mine, I am not only not finding as much time for birding as I used to, but it also seems to use up all my creative energy as well. I'm at a point of reflection again about my li"
I apologize for such a long time in-between posts here. With this new job of mine, I am not only not finding as much time for birding as I used to, but it also seems to use up all my creative energy as well. I'm at a point of reflection again about my life, my general lack of happiness and far too much stress, and I have so many thoughts it's difficult to determine what to do. Birding has always helped me cope, but it feels like even that is slipping away from me. I'm no longer able to sneak in an hour of birding over my lunch hour as I used to, and I am now relegated to weekend-only birding because our hours of daylight have compressed so much. Lately I find myself reliving old memories of productive birding outings with friends, or even just by myself. Times when I was able to stumble upon an interesting bird –or even a common bird– and capture its beauty in a photograph that I could share with others.
For a number of reasons, there is one bird in particular that stirs up more memories and emotions for me than any other bird, and that is the American Woodcock. These very odd looking birds are affectionately known by a whole lot of funny nicknames including; Timberdoodle, Bogsucker, Labrador Twister, Hokumpoke, Mudbat, Swampbat, Bog Snipe, Timber Rocket and more. One of the very first times I ever had a good look at one was in the spring of 2014 when I was riding in a car with my friend Ron and we spotted 3 of them standing alongside the road at Carver Park Reserve. I screamed "pull over!" and he did so quickly, positioning the car so that I had pretty much the only view and he had none. It wasn't intentional but just happened that way and I came away with a closeup photo while Ron barely even got a look at them because they flew away just seconds later. I always felt terrible about that and Ron did give me grief about it for quite some time, but in his usual kind-hearted way that let me know it was simply a comedy of errors that happen to all of us who chase birds.
My first ever photo of an American Woodcock taken from the passenger seat of Ron's car in 2014. Seconds earlier there were 3 birds and this was just the last one to fly away. I was always kinda bummed its head and bill weren't in focus like the rest of it.
Later in October of that same year, I was walking through a large cemetery near my workplace when I noticed a bird doing a very strange bobbing "walk" in the green grass. I could hardly believe it but here was another American Woodcock and I had my camera with me! Had any other visitors to the cemetery that day been watching me, they likely would have wondered what in the hell I was up to, because I decided to crouch down on my hands and knees and position myself behind a large gravestone to avoid spooking the bird. The tactic worked well and I was even able to move in closer to the bird and came away with even better photos than I had gotten with Ron. I chalked this up to dumb luck –which it definitely was– but, I didn't realize at the time that this particular encounter with such an odd bird would continue to repeat for me in some fashion or another almost every fall. Each successive encounter with an American Woodcock –and sometimes more than one– at the same cemetery became one of my most thrilling bird adventures of the entire year. Often it took many hours, days and weeks to locate one, and I didn't always come away with a photo. But over the years I feel like I've improved my luck in finding them and learned the most important lesson of all, which is to NEVER get out of my vehicle to try and get closer. Without fail, these quirky birds with eyes set so far up and back on their heads, will see you coming long, long before you notice them, and bolt up into the air with a booming and whistling flutter of wings and fly 50 yards away from you before you even realized what just happened.
One of many different photos I captured upon my first observation of an American Woodcock at the cemetery. October 14, 2014
After too many of these frustrating experiences, I learned to simply look for them while driving slowly in my vehicle and then hope they weren't too far away for a photo. Surprisingly I had much success in this method and best of all, I was able to give Ron more than one opportunity to see and photograph a Woodcock up close! Another fun memory involves another good birding friend of mine, who agreed to try and "corral" a Woodcock with me one fall –on foot no less– between the two of us, but leaving a safety net of an old, rusty chain-link fence in the middle for the bird to skirt underneath to a side of its choosing if it felt threatened. This was a bit before I officially adopted my "never get out of the car" rule, so it was a bit more risky. In the end however, the bird hugged the fence line but periodically popped out a foot or two on both sides of the fence, giving us both good looks and photo opportunities without the bird ever flushing and flying away.
A Timberdoodle hugging the fenceline on October 25, 2015
In recent years, finding a Woodcock at the cemetery in fall has turned into a ritual for me. I've spent countless hours cruising the roads at 5 miles-per-hour, stopping to peer through my binoculars at every fallen leaf that has the properly angled wedge shape of an American Woodcock. These birds happen to be one of the most excellently camouflaged birds in North America and they can blend into the leaf litter so well that you wont notice them even if you're a mere 5 feet away. In fact, these birds rely so heavily on their camouflage for protection from predators, that they often stay still until you're about to unknowingly step on them before they actually get up and fly away. For this reason, locating these birds in an area as large as the cemetery can feel like an effort in futility. Some years I've gotten lucky and found them within my first few visits of the season, while other years it's taken me many repeat visits. This year, because I no longer work less than a mile away as I did for many years, I could only check on weekends. So I honestly thought this would be the year that I would not find one. After 3 or 4 trips starting in mid-October I was coming up empty. But on Saturday, October 30th I found one by mistake. I had given up on locating any birds for the day and I was driving out of the cemetery when I noticed some amazing sunlight beaming through the beautifully colored maple trees. I parked and grabbed my other camera and walked up the hill a little ways, snapping pics here and there of the scenery. I paused and took one more step when that familiar flurry of wingbeats jumped up and bolted away from me. I could hardly believe it but had I not exited my car I would have never seen this bird. I did my best to watch the direction in which the bird flew in hopes of relocating it, but this bird traveled quite a bit further than I expected. After standing there dumbfounded for a few seconds, I decided "what the heck, I'll give it a try anyway" and ran back to my car. I drove to roughly the area I thought the bird might have gotten to and low and behold there it was in the tall, green grass! It was in a pretty dark shadow of a large tree and among un-mowed grass unfortunately and as it took notice of my approaching vehicle, I decided to hunker down even lower, leaving only its head and large, brown eye exposed. I was excited nonetheless, and proud that I was able to simply find one, much less get any photo of it.
The following day on Halloween, I decided I'd check one more time for the season, just in case I might stumble upon one closer to the road and in better light. I'd driven almost every road save for one and was feeling defeated when there, on the last road was that familiar dark, wedge shape I've come to recognize. They're nearly impossible to confirm without binoculars but I was feeling 99% confident as I pulled them up to my eyes. And to my pleasant surprise, there was a second bird only about 18 inches away! The birds weren't in nice, bright sunlight –at least not yet. I parked and snapped a few photos but didn't wait very long for the light to change. While driving around prior to finding the bird, I also spotted another birder whom I thought I might know. So I went back to see if it was the person I thought and indeed it was. I told her I had a "Halloween treat" for her and explained what I had just found. It turns out she'd never seen a Woodcock before so we drove back to the spot in our respective vehicles and sat and watched them for a good long while.
This was the second bird that originally remained very low to the ground and kept its back to me most of the time. When sunlight finally reached the bird, it happened to stand up and turn its head toward me!
The sunlight and shadows changed periodically, putting each of the birds in fantastic light at one point or another. Neither bird was actively walking around but rather just sitting still and remaining camouflaged like they so often do. A few times each bird started up with their strange, full-body bobbing motion like they were about to walk away but never actually did. After taking plenty of photos I was beyond thrilled and left my friend there to enjoy the birds. She told me later that eventually a bicyclist came by and scared the birds away by accident. I'm quite sure this person had absolutely no idea they were there –which is likely how most people ever see them in the first place.
My most recent photo of a "Cemetery Snipe" captured on Halloween morning October 31, 2021. I literally just made up this nickname, but it seems to fit well given my own particular experience.
Having had such a successful "hunt" for this bird again –especially this year– was downright satisfying, but getting to share it with another birder I've come to know and respect was even better.
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