Hunting intheShadows ofthe
ffi&effiffi,ffiffi o,4qTom Keer /
I hunt in the shadowsof the Mooncussers. Behindthe rock promontories,cliffs,anddunes where they walked, carrying lanterrls,are wonderful,coastalwoodcock Mooncussers pretendedto belightcoverts. houses,andtheir walkingalongthe coverts lured unsuspectingcaptainsto run their shipsagroundon oflshore barsandledges. I suspectthat migratingwoodcockdroppedinto the adjacentmaples,birches, alders,and river systemswhile the plundering began.The name Edward Teachis unrecognizableto most of us, but aska child if he'sheard of Blackbeardand he'll shiverin his timbers. It surprisesme that there arent more coastalwoodcock hunters. Perhapsit's becausein our time the value of oceanfront property has becomeso high that land adjacentto big covertshas been replacedby multitudes of quaint, seaside homes.Most of the homesare boardedup come Octoberand November,their inhabitantsmigrating south to warm placestoo. I'm not quite surewhat I love abouthunting woodcockalongthe shore.Muybe it's becauseI live on the coast,and thesecovertsare closerto home. Perhapsit's becausethe seasonsare a bit later than they are in the northern stateswhere I hunt, and my dogsand I canpursuethe timberdoodlesfor a few additional weeks eachyear.But maybe,just maybe,it's the feeling I get from hunting one of my favoritegamebirds in their ancestralenvironment. The American woodcock,while technicallya speciesof shorebird, is the product of eonsof change- in which the bird adaptedto a more terrestrialhabit than 24 RGS I www.rffidgrousesociety.org
many of its relatives.I considerthis during the summerasI watchother shorebirdsrace around the tide line. Sandpipers,snipeand dowitcherscarry their mottled,rotund bodieson spindly legs,with long beaksthat look out of place.When I seethem skirt the water line I long for October.SometimesI run after them along the water'sedgejust to see them take flight. What I noticemost abouthunting seaside woodcockis the differencein smell.Along the ocean,the smellof saltpermeatesthe air. Its briny tang contrasts sharply with the earthy smells found inland. Watch your guns, for no metals are safe.Gun barrels, shell brassand bells rust quickly out here. I am constantlyremindedof corrosionby the rotted frame on my ]eep C|5. I dont know how much longerI candependon her to get me and my dogs safelyto hunt some birds. But on a warm October day, nothing feels better than taking off the ]eep'stop and doors and driving to coverts with a salty breezeto cool us. During hunting season,the daytime and nighttime temperaturescanvary significantly. If a thick, blanketof fog rolls in around false dawn, the coverts are shrouded quickly. Its moisturekeepsbird dogs from overheating, and when it rolls in Im thankfi.rlfor the compasson mywhistle lanyard.All thingsget quiet and challengingin the fog,and shotgun reports,bellsand beepersaremuted.
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As forestsmature,and many havealong the coast,the population of ticks hasincreased.My wife and I spenda significant amount of time after eachhunt removing ticks from our setters. Most of the time we pull the larger-sizeddog ticks, and they dont concern us that much. Later in the seasonwe find the red-bellieddeer ticks. After one three hour hunt, Angela and I removed enough ticks from one dog to turn a good portion of a normally white and purple quahog shell black. Suchvigilanceis necessarywhen woodcockhunting along the coast,and it's with great satisfactionI say none of our dogs havecontractedLyme disease. The coasthasits own versionsof uplandsand lowlands.The upland equivalentsare typicallyfound a few hundred feet above sealevel.Think of coastalMaine, where old farm fields full of aldersand popple run right up to the cragry drop offs. These classiccovertslook like they could be found in the GreatLakes or in Pennsylvania.But onceyou hear crashingwavesand smell the salty air you know instantly you're near the sea.Lowlands arewhere I call home.Where I hunt I'm nevermore than 30 feet abovesealevel. I hunt around estuarieswith freshwaterrivers that end in kettleponds.Herring migrateup theseareasin the spring,and their edgesalong the way hold birds. The walking canbe tricky due to the mud, and I watch-y steparoundthem. One of my favorite covertsis not far from an old salt works, where Colonists funneled seawaterthrough a seriesof gates
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and trappedit. Ultimately the sun evaporatedthe water and left behind the preciousmineral. When I flush woodcock in the severalacresof wooden whips nearby I imagine a few Pilgrims doing the sameover 300 yearsago.I suspectmost passedby the woodcockin favor of largergame,a trend that continuesamong hunterstoday. In someof our hunting spotswe find other gamebirds. In SouthernNew England,the warmer coastalclimatesresult in more mild climatesthan they do inland. Bobwhite quail werea staple,and a long while ago I usedto encounterthree to five coveysper hunt. Now I dont seemany of them at all and after the dogs point them I flush them and dont shoot. Therearesomewild pheasantaround and their numbersare better,but still not healthy.They area challengeto hunt, and they disappearquickly into the sweetbriarthickets and run around to a dog'sexhaustion. The coastcomesalive in the fall. Waterfowlerswelcome migrating geese,diver and seaducks arrive for the winter, and fishermen dot the miles and miles of beachesas they have for decadesin hopes of catchingbig striped bassand bluefish.Surferstradewetsuitsfor drysuitsand catchbig sets rolling over the offshorebars.I like to do all of that, but on everyday during the woodcockseasonyou'll find me belling my dogsand roaming the lowlands.*
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