Driving down the hill the other day, I spotted a casualty on the road ahead, and knew by its size that it was a brown hare. Of all the creatures I find dead or injured on the roads, the brown hares are the ones that upset me the most, not least because when they are hurt their hare scream is penetrating and eerie.
This one was a crumpled heap of light and dark brown fur. Its elongated hind legs were broken, but the long, broad ears stuck out almost defiantly. The carcass would not last long with so many scavengers around and I expected that night a fox would carry it off to eat at leisure.
Coming back along the same road seven hours later, I was surprised by another roadkill specimen, a few metres from what was left of the brown hare. In all my 40 years of driving in the Highlands, this is only the second time I had found a dead woodcock on the road.
I wondered why it had been there at all during the day, as they are normally nocturnal or crepuscular. I stopped and took away the body to examine closer. I was particularly interested in the two pin feathers located at the carpel joint of the wings. These are short and stiff and highly prized by artists for fine work.
Scolopax rusticola is a bird that guards its secrets closely. It is known that the adults pick up their young when danger threatens, but many people who have studied woodcock all their lives never see evidence of this.
Years ago, walking through woodland in the breeding season, I was privileged to see one rise up in front of me carrying a small chick between its legs. The adult landed about 20 metres away and deposited its offspring, then flew back towards me, picked up another young bird and flew back to the first one. I left them in peace with a feeling of intense satisfaction at having witnessed this for myself.
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