that's how my dad referred to the mighty woodcock. it was because of the haphazard way the bird seemed to fly. this is a tiny bird so secretive and skittish that you probably won't see one until the sun has set and the last glow of the sky is bleeding into the shadows of the pines. then the woodcock pops off the duff like it's been shot out of a small canon, quickly reaching minimal altitude, and flies like a ball of maniac feathers only to disappear into the darkness of the night. this drawing is based on sketches made by one of my favorite wildlife artists, David Maas.
