Vol. 43, No. 2
It is early March and time to head to Rock Meadow in Belmont as the sun sets. The fields are a patchwork of snow and frozen grass. We park our car and start walking out into the meadow, Bob with his eyes to the sky and me with my ears ready to hear the bird that to me signals the coming avalanche of spring bird song. As light fades from the sky, we suddenly hear peent! off to our left.
Such is my reaction to my first American Woodcock of the receding winter. We cannot tear ourselves away, following any flight song or calls we hear across the fields. We eventually call it a night and head home, looking forward to repeating this experience multiple times over the coming weeks.