A night of strong winds out from the north and a morning that dawned calm and sunny provided near perfect conditions for a drop migration movement. Never anyone to squander the opportunity, I grabbed binoculars and headed out to prove my theory.

Along the river trail the temperature was crisp, the birding activity a little on the slow side. As a result of the windy night, leaves were plentiful on the trail. Even walking softy, the crunching leaves made hearing bird song a little tricky. However, as sunlight seeped through the trees, warming the undergrowth, the chirps and cheeps picked up. On the migrant side, a merry band of American Robins were busily swapping tree-top perches for the ability to scurry around on the forest floor. I watched them for a couple minutes and thought they appeared particularly congenial to one another, chattering back and forth as though attending an excellent social occasion. The food source should have been plentiful.

A brief distance down the trail, I detected five Hermit Thrushes, going quietly about sweet bonanza their business. By their manner and demeanor, you'd never know these were of the exact same family since the sweet bonanza robins. Their behavior was unobtrusive, they moved slowly, without song or call. As I watched the thrushes, I became aware of twittering in the tree tops above me. Looking up, I saw the nervous wing flicking that will only be kinglets. They certainly were not singing, just whispering their lisping notes. After a few moments, I got binocular views and identified both Ruby-crowned and Golden-crowned Kinglets. It amuses me to view kinglets because they continually flitter and fidget in their restless quest for insects.

As I neared the biggest bend in the river, woods gave solution to weedy fields and I was rewarded by dozens of migrant sparrows. The most obvious and the greatest number were White-throated Sparrows. Although they certainly were actively feeding, there clearly was no dearth of clear whistled song as "Poor Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody" rang out over and over. In the event that you reside north of the U.S. border, the white-throats sing "Oh, Sweet Canada, Canada, Canada", roughly I've been told! Regardless of the interpretation, it's delightful and cheery.

Added migrants were mixed in with the sparrow flock, including White-crowned Sparrows and Savannah Sparrows. To not be outdone, our resident Song Sparrows could possibly be heard all across the trail. I confess they're among my favorites because they don't play hide and seek with me. They're an in-your-face bird. Pish or whistle and the Song Sparrow hops front and center to answer together with his 3 note introduction, accompanied by very pleasing musical notes.

Noting a couple hours had slipped away, I turned to produce my way home. I was feeling pretty contented, the normal results of the great bird walk. The gusty winds from last night had showered the trail with much concentration of leaves, and as I walked along I started to shuffle my feet through them. Soon, I was kicking leaves with abandon, just having a great time of it. Yea, I was very relaxed. And then, without warning, as I kicked in to a colorful pile of autumn leaves, A FEATHERED BOMBSHELL EXPLODED AT MY FEET!

I had accidentally disturbed a resting American Woodcock! What a bonanza! I don't know which of us was more startled. I do know it sure gave my nervous system a twitch. Despite having the shock of surprise, it only took a millisecond to recognize the bird. One glimpse of the initial chunky shape, round wings, barred head, and killer bill was all it took. I did not hear the conventional twittering wing sound the woodcock probably made because it abruptly flew up, but then, the blood pounding through my veins may have dulled the standard flight sounds. What a thrill!

Although it is not rare to view a woodcock across the river trail, it's not a ho-hum bird by any means. An American Woodcock is surely a bonanza bird for me. The woodcock is nocturnal of course, but I've seen many wandering around in the daylight. On the river trail, I've only seen them in the shaded, shallow gullies that run next to the trail. These gullies collect rain, which forms temporary rivulets. Whilst the water evaporates, it leaves muddy areas. These soft, moist spots provide ideal habitat for hungry woodcocks, who feed by poking their long, flexible bills to the soft earth in search of goodies.