The courtship displays of American woodcocks are my favorite rite of spring. Their comical looks and outrageous behaviors provide plenty of fodder to write about, as well.

I needed that fodder recently as I was feeling particularly uninspired to write about anything. I went for a walk out back behind the house, which is situated on six acres of land, mostly forested with deciduous trees. There is a wide track – maybe an old, temporary logging road – that winds through the trees and ends at a large frog pond. On one side of this pond is a small, shrubby clearing; on the other, a good-sized marsh, complete with an impressive beaver dam, the waters of which trickle into a tributary of Pushaw Stream.

As I started down the track, I heard the melodious chirping of one of these plump, woodland shorebirds as it circled overhead. After several seconds the chirping stopped, followed by a period of silence. Then:

“Peent.”

This peculiar nasal call was repeated in several-second intervals by the bird as it stood on its territory. I had once gotten close enough to watch one of these birds as it vocalized this sound. Its long, slender bill, perfect for probing for earthworms in soft earth, seemed disproportionately long for its chunky, compact body. Opening its bill to make this sound seemed to require an entire bodily effort – but then, it does for other birds, too. Singing takes an enormous amount of energy.

And the bird just doesn’t stand still – it turns in all directions, north, south, east, and west, directing its voice to all corners of the earth.

As this bird was calling, I heard three or four others in different stages of display. After the peenting period, the birds take to the air; as they ascend to 200-300 feet above ground, their outer primary flight feathers (the first three feathers on the tip of the wing) produce whistling or twittering sounds as the air passes between them. They also begin vocalizing a melodious series of whistles as they circle high overhead. After perhaps three or four circuits, they begin a zigzag flight back to earth; as they near the ground, they go silent. They alight, perhaps catch their breath, and then: “Peent… peent… peent….”

This evening, all the birds went into overdrive as they each seemed to become more frenzied in their displays.

“Peent.”

“Peent.”

“Peent.”

Then one would take to the air, quickly followed by another; at one point I observed one woodcock close on the tail of a rival as they performed their flight displays. I also saw the birds zooming low under tree level, uttering a harsh kakakakakak call. I had never seen this behavior or heard this vocalization before, and I learned it is given during aggressive interactions such as I was seeing.

After the display flight they’d alight on the trail ahead or behind me, or off farther in a small clearing amidst the trees. These birds were in an absolute fury of courtship rituals! The area was swarming with them, or so it seemed. I had never heard or seen so many of them displaying in one area at the same time.

As I watched and listened to these crazed birds, I noticed other things: the faint glow of the quarter-moon as it shone through the cloud cover; the distant “cheerio, cheerup,” of a robin singing its evening song. As it grew dark, wood frogs added their songs to the evening chorus.

Spring in Maine can be quite glorious at times.

BDN bird columnist Chris Corio can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net