ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, March 9, 1997 TAG: 9703110012
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C-8 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: OUTDOORS
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
The show was to begin at dusk, with the promise of reckless aerobatics and courtship rituals of the strangest kind, a blending of action and sex you might expect from a Hollywood script.
And you thought bird club meetings were dull.
Fifteen members of the Roanoke Valley Bird Club gathered on a recent evening to witness the strange and dazzling spring courtship flight of the woodcock. Several brought binoculars for a close-up look.
A fog-like mist, warm and clean, clung to the early-evening air, and birder Bill Hunley thought that might be a bad thing. Not enough light for the woodcock to do their thing? Certainly not enough to watch them if they did.
The late-winter and early-spring courtships of the bird world often are spectacular, but few feathered species put on a more fascinating show than the woodcock. Aldo Leopold called it ``the sky dance'' in his ``A Sand County Almanac.''
An avid grouse and woodcock hunter, Leopold said he became so infatuated with the woodcock ritual that he no longer looked at the bird simply as a target or as a piece of meat to grace a slice of toast.
``I find myself calling one or two birds enough,'' he wrote. ``I must be sure that, come April, there be no dearth of dancers in the sunset sky.''
For the bird club members, that dreaded dearth was a reality; hopefully, something that could be credited to the weather. But you have to wonder. The Eastern woodcock population has been declining at a rate of 2.5 percent a year for the past decade, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.
The bird club members were watching a modest chunk of woods and wetland, part of an airport-landing approach locked behind a steel fence and ``No Trespassing'' signs. The group was serenaded by the high-pitched whistle and trill of a chorus of spring peepers, sounding much like sleigh bells, but promising spring. A flock of red-winged blackbirds pitched into the soft boughs of pines, and a red-tailed hawk gave the setting a final fly-over.
The setting wasn't just a place to watch for woodcocks, but also to understand the birds' plight. The woodcock is being crunched hard by habitat decline, which includes the loss of young forests on moist ground in combination with open fields.
The island of habitat that the bird club members watched traditionally has produced three or four woodcock sightings on most evenings during the first couple weeks of March, said Tad Finnell, the club's field trips coordinator.
``We usually hear them first, and then you can see them drop and rise back up again,'' he said.
The birders strained their ears against the darkness, and, finally, at about 6:30 p.m., a woodcock or two could be heard trading about in the hardwoods, their wings twittering like a wind-up toy. Hunley softly reported a couple of ``pent pent'' sounds, the prelude to the courtship flight of the male, but no birds were spotted.
``It is like watching for popcorn to pop. Once it gets started ... ,'' Linda Cory said, with hope trailing off in her voice. She is the president of the bird club.
Things never quiet popped this time. When they do, the woodcock spirals upward as high as 300 feet, then tumbles toward the ground, like a fighter plane shot down, yet giving a warble on the way. The airborne flights have the purpose of attracting females, but on this evening there appeared to be more inquisitive birders than active males or interested females.
That fact sent the birders driving off into the night a bit disappointed.
LENGTH: Medium: 66 linesby CNB