Describing the action in detail, he says:
At each utterance of the paap the neck was slightly lengthened, the head was thrown upward and backward (much in the manner of a least flycatcher's while singing), the bill was opened wide and raised to a horizontal position, the wings were jerked out from the body. All these movements were abrupt and convulsive, indicating considerable muscular effort on the part of the bird. There was perhaps also a slight twitching of the tail, but this member was not perceptibly raised or expanded. The return of the several parts to their respective normal positions was quite as sudden as were the initial movements. The forward recovery of the head was well marked. The opening and shutting of the bill strongly suggested that of a pair of tongs. During the emission of the paap the throat swelled and its plumage was ruffled, but neither effect was more marked than with any of our small birds while in the act of singing.
The mouth opened to such an extent that I could look directly down the bird's throat, which appeared large enough to admit the end of one's forefinger. The lateral distension of the mouth was especially striking.
Referring to the song flight, he says: "Two flights, which I timed from the start to the finish, lasted, respectively, 57 and 59 seconds, the song 11 and 12 seconds, respectively." During the flight he followed him with a glass and "made out distinctly that while singing he alternately flapped his wings (several times in succession) and held them extended and motionless."
Francis H. Allen has sent me the following notes on his impression of the song:
In all that has been written of this wonderful performance of the woodcock's, I do not remember to have seen any full description of the song itself; the peeping, or peenting, on the ground, with the alternating water-dropping sounds and the accompaniment of head-jerking and wing-lifting has been described at length, as well as the remarkable spiral ascent into the air on whistling wings; but the character of the actual song, which is uttered at the summit of the ascent and as the bird comes down, is worth a little more attention. It begins in a confused series of chipping whistles which convey the impression of coming from at least three birds at once. These soon resolve themselves into groups of four to six—usually four in my experience—descending notes, the groups alternating with groups of high-pitched wing-whistles. These song notes vary in sweetness with different individuals, but are often very clear and musical. Not the least interesting aspect of the woodcock's evening hymn is the fact that so stolid appearing a bird should be moved by the fervor of courtship to execute so elaborate and exciting a performance. The excitement attending the affair as far as the spectator, or rather listener, is concerned lies to great extent in the wing whistling. When the woodcock first rises, the whistle is comparatively low, but as he mounts, the pitch rises and the rapidity of production increases. It is a steady succession of very short whistling notes for some time, but, when the bird and the whistle both reach their height, it comes in short groups of extremely rapid whistles alternating with brief intervals of motionless wings, as if the performer were breathless with excitement and effort and could not sustain his flight for long at a time. This is the effect, I mean. Probably the bird finds it easy enough, for he makes his flight at comparatively short intervals and during his periods of rest he is hard at work producing his harsh and unmusical nighthawk-like peent notes which involve a deal of muscular effort.
Lynds Jones (1909) says that "the bird floats downward by a crooked path, the while calling in coaxing tones p chuck tuck cuck oo, p chuck tuck cuckoo, uttered more slowly at first, regularly increasing in rapidity until the notes are almost a wheedling call." Isador S. Trostler (1893) describes a feature of the courtship which I have not seen mentioned elsewhere; he writes:
The birds often play in a very droll manner, running round and round each other in a small circle, their feathers ruffled, their wings lifted, and their long bills pointing nearly directly upward, with their heads resting on their backs.
Sometimes they will hop on one foot, holding the other at a queer angle, as if it had been broken or hurt. The male bird utters a low indescribable sound during all the playing, and the sight of these queer antics is worth more than to have seen Modjeska or Barrett in their celebrated plays.
Nesting.—The nesting sites of the woodcock are almost as varied as its haunts at other times. I have never known how or where to look for its nest; in over 40 years of field work I have seen but one nest with eggs. That was shown to me by Mrs. Mary M. Kaan, in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, on June 2, 1924. It was located where I should never have thought of looking for one, in an open, rocky hollow in open woods, within 50 feet of a bridle path on one side and about the same distance from a swampy ravine and brook on the other side. The nest was on a little hummock, surrounded by herbage about a foot high; it was a mere hollow in the ground lined with dead leaves. Although it was in fairly plain sight, it was a long time before I could see the sitting bird, even when it was pointed out to me. The bird sat like a rock, as this species usually does, while I took a series of photographs of it, moving gradually nearer. I even removed two leaves which were resting on her bill, and Mrs. Kaan stroked her on the back before she left. The nest held only three eggs, which were probably a second laying.