Last night, Cheryl Kilpatrick and I drove out to Tahlequah where we met Mia Revels and James Waffle, and then drove west to Mia's woodcock field. Now, "woodcock-ery," as Mia calls it, should be considered to be more performance art than birdwatching. The birders arrive at the clearing where the birds were performing last night and carefully select a likely spot from which they'll be able to see the male birds land nearby and perform their "peeent"-ing calls. Unfortunately, birds have wings and can go wherever they like, so the chances that the birders will pick the "right" spot are not good. In the past 3-4 years, I've sat all over that clearing, never the same place twice, and the birds never land EXACTLY in front of me. Well, last night, there appeared to be at least 3 male birds calling, two off to our right and one behind us, and we watched several birds flying over our heads this way and that, but not one male bird landed exactly where we'd hoped, that is, right in the clearing in front of where we sat. On the other hand, the birds were there and _were_ calling, we heard their tinkling calls as they circled overhead in their display flights and then listened as the calls changed while they were coming in for a landing (always just "over there," not where we wanted them to land), and then after about 20 minutes, the show was over. We staggered back to our cars in the dark (no one ever remembers to bring a flashlight for the hike back to the cars), and then drove down the road to the Echota House Restaurant for an excellent meal in front of the fireplace: bacon-wrapped filet mignon, steaming hot baked potato with lots of butter, fresh rolls, home-made apple cobbler à la mode. I've said it before and I'll say it again: birding is just that thing I do to pass the time between meals!!
|
