So it's a quarter to six and I've just gotten out of work at REI; an 
all-too-short drive away from the Cherry Hill Community Park where Ryan 
Farrell and others have reported hearing/seeing Woodcocks doing their 
thang.  I tried to stall for time by telling my coworkers about how I 
was heading off to see a preposterous looking bird that sounds like a 
computer do a modern dance interpretation of a tango, but hey, that 
description only goes on for so long, and they've heard my stories 
before, so there I am parked at the end of a residential street.  I 
shift my belongings around; wallet and car keys in the chest pocket of 
my coat, binoculars around my neck, mace/pepper spray combo in my pocket 
(hey, I've worked in College Park for 12 years; I know what goes down).  
I wander beyond the kiddie park onto the basketball court trying not to 
look either too vulnerable (girl alone in CP at night) or too suspicious 
(hooded figure with bandana across face and a large pair of 
binoculars).  Mostly I just feel self-conscious. 

Lots of bird song.  I spy a bunch of Song Sparrows in the thicket at the 
edge of the marsh beyond the basketball court and think about the size 
of the sycamore trees that grew on this very spot before the tornado 
landed and turned a forest into a field (said tornado then jumped across 
Cherry Hill Road and nuked Linens 'n Things -- foreshadowing perhaps?).  
A couple of round flocks of Starlings pass over head.  It really does 
feel like 34 degrees out.  A man arrives home across the street, greets 
someone at the doorway in Spanish and accidentally sets off his car 
alarm.  A large dog in the neighboring house barks.  A flock of some 20 
Canada Geese fly from right to left.  The traffic on the Beltway is so 
loud.  I look at my watch: 6:14 PM.  I hear the Woodcock comes out at 
precisely 6:15, so so far, so good. 

6:15 PM.  Nothing.  Now I *really* feel self-conscious.  And cold.  
Where's Romeo?

6:16 PM.  BPEEENT!   BPEEENT!   BPEEENT!  I see a shadow wisk diagonally 
across the thicket behind the basketball court and catch a glimpse of 
him spiralling before I lose sight of him in the sky.  Somehow I don't 
mind the cold so much ... his wings whistle.  He's landed!  BPEEENT!  
BPEEENT!  And there he is, on the ground right in front of me at the 
very edge of the mowed grass between the court and the shrubbery, just 
to the left of the middle most sapling about 12 away.  I train my 
binoculars on him and watch as he continues to call that weird, 
electronic sound.  Each time he throws his head back and aims his 
ludicrously long beak at the sky.  As he calls his entire body seems to 
puff up with the effort.  BPEEENT!  It's ridiculous.  I laugh.  He 
BPEENTS and then flies again.  I watch for another cycle but after that, 
he's silent and I can't feel my fingertips any longer.  I look at my 
watch.  6:32 PM.  Shows over.  I head for home.

BTW, this morning we had a mixed flock of 2 Goldfinch and 7 Pine Siskins 
at the feeders we only just now got around to filling at my home in 
Cloverly.  And on my way into work on Briggs Chaney Road just beyond the 
intersection with Peach Orchard there was a group of five vultures (a 
mixture of Black and Turkey) checking out something delicious along the 
side of the road.  A birdy day.

Laura Appelbaum,
Cloverly, MD