Mr. Brewster (1925) writes:
Many years ago I expressed in print a belief that the whistling sound made by a rising woodcock is produced by the bird's wings. This conviction has since been confirmed by field experience at the lake with woodcock killed during the first half of September, and in varying conditions of moult. Such of them as still retained or had just renewed the attenuated outer primaries, almost always whistled when flushed, whereas no sound other than a dull fluttering one was ever heard from any of those not thus equipped. Hence I continue to hold firmly to the opinion that the woodcock's clear, silvery whistle emanates from these "whistling quills", as sportsmen fitly term them, and not from the bird's throat. There are, however, certain sounds, not very unlike those which combine to form the usual characteristic whistle, but more disconnected and twittering, which may be of vocal origin. One hears them oftenest from the woodcock hovering, just before alighting, or flitting low over the ground for trifling distances, beating their wings rather listlessly. This comparatively slow pulsation of the wings might account for the interrupted sequence of the sounds, but not perhaps, for their seemingly throaty quality.
Edward H. Forbush (1925) quotes three observers, as follows:
Mr. W. H. Harris asserts that he held a woodcock by the bill which whistled three times with a rotary motion of body and wings. Mr. J. M. Dinsmore held a woodcock by the body and wings to prevent movement of these parts, and he says that this bird whistled through its mouth and throat. Mr. H. Austin avers that he flushed a woodcock that did not whistle, marked the bird and put him up again when he whistled, which indicates that the bird may have made the sound with its vocal equipment.
Fall.—The following from the pen of Mr. Forbush (1912) illustrates the conditions which affect the fall flight:
The flights of birds from the North have not diminished in number so much as have the native birds. Occasionally a large flight stops here, as in early November, 1908, when woodcock were plentiful here, and when some gunners in Connecticut secured from 20 to 40 birds each in a day. This flight did not denote such an increase in the number of these birds, however, as generally was believed. The explanation is that they all came at once. The birds in Maine and the Provinces had a good breeding season, and they must have had a plentiful supply of food, for the autumn weather was mild, and they mostly remained in their northern homes until nearly the 1st of November. Flight birds were rare in Massachusetts up to that time, and the bags were small. The fall had been warm and dry, but on October 29 and 30 New England and the Provinces experienced a severe northeast storm along the seaboard, followed by a cold northwest wind, which probably froze up the northern feeding grounds, if the storm had not already buried them in snow. Either or both of these conditions drove the woodcock into southern New England. My correspondence shows that this flight landed in every county of Massachusetts except Dukes and Nantucket. As usual, comparatively few were seen in Barnstable County. Connecticut covers harbored many woodcock from about November 12 to November 20. There were many in Rhode Island, and the flight was noted as far south as Delaware.
Game.—It is as a game bird that the woodcock is best known, most beloved, and most popular, for it is a prince among game birds, and its flesh is a delight to the palate of an epicure. What sportsman will not stop in his pursuit of other game to hunt some favorite corner, some woodland border, or some brushy hillside where he has flushed this bird of mystery before? And what a thrill he gets as the brown ball of feathers suddenly flutters up from almost underfoot among the crisp autumn leaves, dodging up through the branches with a whistled note of warning, and flies away over the treetops! Perhaps he was too surprised at first to shoot; but, if he marked it down, he can soon flush it again, for it has not gone far; then, if he is quick and true at snap shooting, he may pick up the coveted prize, admire the soft, warm, ruddy breast, the pretty pattern of woodland lights and shades, the delicate long bill, and the big liquid eyes. An aristocrat among game birds!
In the early days, when I first began shooting, summer woodcock shooting was regularly practiced; the season opened in July, when the young birds of late broods were not large enough to furnish good sport and were not fit for the table. Moreover, the weather was often hot and the foliage was dense, making it unsatisfactory for the sportsmen. The only excuse for it was that it allowed some shooting in certain sections where local birds departed early and where flight birds seldom occurred. It went far towards exterminating local breeding birds in Massachusetts; it was bad for all concerned, and it is well that it was abandoned.
From the above and other causes woodcocks have decreased alarmingly during the past 50 years. One gets an impressive idea of the former abundance of the birds by reading the quaint shooting tales of Frank Forester, in which he boasts of having shot with a friend 125 birds in one day and 70 the next day before noon, and this with the old-fashioned muzzle-loading guns. His hunting trips were joyous occasions, in which the noonday luncheon, washed down with ample draughts of applejack, held a prominent place.