SIGN OF SPRINGAn American Woodcock landed at my feet while I was walking up 9th Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen. I stopped, so did the bird. These birds are hard to spot in the country, let alone one landing on a busy street. I thought it was injured and immediately fretted about whether to try and capture it and bring it somewhere or watch and see what happened.
We stared at one another for a moment and then it did something with its rear feathers, arching them up in a fan, which it would vibrate and retract. It did this several times. I could only guess was some kind of mating ritual. The whole time I’m the only person watching this, people are passing by on the sidewalk oblivious.
All of a sudden it flew towards the doorway of a nearby corner store. It paused there for a moment, and then flew up to the glass in the door, trying to spot its reflection, desperately trying to connect, trying to mate. It gave up and flew up and away over 9th Avenue.
We stared at one another for a moment and then it did something with its rear feathers, arching them up in a fan, which it would vibrate and retract. It did this several times. I could only guess was some kind of mating ritual. The whole time I’m the only person watching this, people are passing by on the sidewalk oblivious.
All of a sudden it flew towards the doorway of a nearby corner store. It paused there for a moment, and then flew up to the glass in the door, trying to spot its reflection, desperately trying to connect, trying to mate. It gave up and flew up and away over 9th Avenue.
posted by Stewart A. Williams at
9:08 PM
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