Bog Myrtle & Peat

I went to Cardiganshire in January. It was a hotly anticipated trip, because I was on a mission to catch and ring woodcock with the celebrated Welsh artist Owen Williams. The man’s caught more than two thousand woodcock in the last few years, and his ringing returns have shed new light on these strange, confusing birds. I worried that his research would dispel some of their magic, but every question he’s been able to resolve has simply asked a dozen more – and it turns out that woodcock are a bottomless pit of wonder and contradiction. Not only have Owen’s ringing returns shed fresh light on largely undiscovered stories, but his new findings have a habit of overturning old ones. In this spirit of uncertainty, there’s space for fools like me to guess at what’s behind these birds, and the truth is that nobody knows for sure. Even the latest science is little more than a slow refinement of mythology.

But this lack of information is also a concern. Across western Europe, woodcock are shot for sport and eating, and while we understand that this hunting is powered by a tremendous boom of migrant birds which arrive from Russia and the east, it’s also clear that western birds are declining. The sport is probably sustainable, but we can’t be definitive about it. We don’t know how many woodcock are being shot in the UK each year, and in the face of growing concern about biodiversity loss in the west, this shooting sits uneasily in the popular consciousness. Shooting folk can say that hunting doesn’t harm the overall population, but it hasn’t been proven and perhaps it’s fair to adopt a precautionary principle. But the argument against woodcock shooting is often driven by people who don’t like any shooting whatsoever, and fieldsports have often suffered from attacks based upon divide and conquer. Woodcock are easily seen as the next battle in an ideological war which ultimately aims to overturn all shooting, and activists frequently attack the sport for killing birds which are so beautiful and exciting. These are inherently subjective criticisms, but the same subjectivities can be easily reversed to endorse woodcock shooting. The birds are beautiful and exciting, and that in part explains why they’re worth the pursuit. 

It’s hard to express the specific understanding of killing as a means of engaging with the natural world. The dynamic is so often described in terms of bloodlust or degeneracy, but there are wider and more holistic ways to understand a hunt which are based not on a protection of apples but love for the tree which grew them. In that experience, woodcock are more than just little people with hopes and aspirations for an individuated future. If that were the case, the loss of every woodcock would be a small, unutterable tragedy. Instead, each woodcock can be viewed part of the wider experience of a whole – and provided that the apple tree is in good heart, it’s possible to hold a love for the species and the destruction of a specific individual in the palm of one hand.

The woodcock which breed in western Europe are declining, but we’re continually learning more about practical conservation measures to address those declines. It’s not only possible to give something back to the birds by creating and managing woodlands on their behalf, but that work actively enriches the experience of shooting when the season comes round.

Beyond our own birds, more than a million woodcock come to Britain each winter, and there’s no real sign of that changing. But the picture is muddied by the fact that these strange, nocturnal birds conceal their abundance with camouflage and caution. If you aren’t looking for woodcock, you probably won’t notice them – and even if you are looking, it takes a knack to find them. So when reports emerge of woodcock being shot, it’s easy to assume that they are scarce and unusual winter migrants – and hunters are placing an unacceptable burden on them. But when a team of dogs can flush one or two hundred birds from small areas of decent cover on a winter’s day, the picture is confused by expressions of health and abundance.

Having kept game records since the age of sixteen, I can say with some confidence that I have killed sixty one woodcock in my life. If that sounds like a lot, consider the amount of travel, legwork and effort I’ve put into that tally – and the many thousands of woodcock I’ve seen along the way. In a normal year, I’ll shoot two or three birds at most – and each one is a major event. I don’t know anybody who routinely shoots more than five woodcock in a season, and the huge majority of my shooting friends kill none at all – and not for lack of trying.

But this is all anecdote. Without a formal system of returns, we have no idea what the impact of shooting is at a national level – and I daresay that establishing that system would be a sensible first step towards developing sustainable, evidence-based standards on woodcock shooting. Without it, we’re probably heading towards a ban based on precautionary principles – which is quite different from a ban based on actual evidence of damage and decline. After all, I don’t know anybody who would continue to shoot woodcock in the knowledge that they were contributing to the extinction of the species. And for as long as woodcock shooting survives, there are small opportunities to engage with nature in a way that feels substantial and important.

The “shooting community” does not exist. It’s a broad-brush expression which describes a wide range of individuals and groups, and I can only speak for myself in sporting terms. I have more in common with many birdwatchers than I do with certain shooting interests, and I hate to see my well-loved traditions subverted by commercial interests. But if woodcock are taken off the quarry list and raised to protected status on a principle of precaution, it will be difficult for me to justify the expense and effort of keeping guns. The birds underpin a culture of interaction with the natural world which matters far beyond lurid descriptions of brutality and destruction. By taking woodcock, we revisit an ancient and almost spiritual dynamic of exchange with the world around us – and without those rich associations, shooting can be little more than pulling a trigger.

Picture: Woodcock feathers shed during ringing in Cardiganshire, 26/1/23