By The Light Of A Woodcock Moon

Beguiling, enigmatic and notoriously difficult to shoot, the woodcock is one of our most mysterious and coveted birds. Adrian Dangar considers how this wily wader should best be conserved

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A BEAUTIFUL, enigmatic and wild traveller, there is much that sets the woodcock apart from other game birds. Our resident population is boosted each winter by hordes of refugees from the frozen wastelands of eastern Europe, many arriving by the silvery light of the first full moon in November, known colloquially as the ‘woodcock moon’. Falls of ’cock continue to take advantage of our milder maritime climate throughout winter and can number more than a million visitors in a good year, but most will have deserted these shores by the end of March to return to summer breeding sites in Scandinavia, Finland, the Baltic States, Western Russia and Siberia.

The woodcock’s plumage is the rich tawny hue of autumnal leaf litter, set off by a pair of glistening black eyes that protrude from the side of its head to give warning of predators approaching from behind. A long, thin bill is testament to a life spent amid wet and unkempt landscapes, where the wader can probe soft ground for small invertebrates beneath the cover of darkness, yet there is no obvious benefit from the single pin feather that graces the underside of each wing. The tiny quills were stiff enough for 19th-century miniaturists to paint with and were also used to depict the narrow gold line along the side of Rolls Royce motor cars. Most now end up as a trophy on the headband of their slayer, for the bird’s jinking and erratic flight when flushed can outsmart the most experienced shot.

In spring, females reveal brilliant white tips to their tail feathers by flashing encouragement to suitors flying overhead in a courtship ritual known as roding—the crepuscular display is accompanied by a subtle orchestra of bullfrog-like croaks and mousy squeaks.