G. H. Merriam — Birds of Connecticut. 1 1 7 



till the middle of June, but, notwithstanding the fact that I exercised 

 the greatest caution in approach, I never so much as caught a mo- 

 mentary glimpse of her form, though once or twice a shadow seemed 

 to flit hurriedly by and disappear in plain sight. What made it still 

 more remarkable was that the number of eggs kept increasing day 

 bv day, and I always found them warm, showing that the bird had 

 been gone but an instant. Once, while feeling of the eggs, I was so 

 startled by her harsh crackling cry, uttered suddenly at my very 

 feet, that I came near breaking them all, but still saw nothing of her. 

 The time had come when we must move camp, so on the 15th of 

 June I made a final effort to secure the old bird. The nest now 

 contained twelve eggs, and I fancied I could hear the faint jjecping 

 of a young bird in Ins attempt to extricate himself from the shell. 

 Stepping back a few paces, I waited, gun in hand, for the space of 

 two long hours, standing first on one leg, then on the other, like a 

 bashful country boy, till my patience was nearly exhausted and I 

 was on the point of leaving, when something darted quickly toward 

 the nest — it was enough ; the mangled remains sufficed to determine 

 the species. Meanwhile the egg had fairly hatched, and its noisy 

 contents had already gained no little use of its tiny twigs. How the 

 first hatched youngsters amuse themselves during the ten days, or 

 two weeks, whilst the other eggs are coming to maturity, will doubt- 

 less be fully elucidated by he who attempts to explain how it is 

 that a bird can give origin, in the coarse of a couple of weeks, to a 

 dozen of eggs, each nearly as large and heavy as her own body. 

 Certain it is that the processes of digestion, and assimilation of nutri- 

 ment, must go on in them much more rapidly than in ourselves. 



Wilson remarked that, "Of all our land or water fowl, perhaps 

 none afford the sportsman more agreeable amusement, or a more 

 delicious repast, than the little bird now before us. This amusement 

 is indeed temporary, lasting only two or three hours in the day for 

 four or five weeks in each year." The mode of procedure is thus 

 described: "The sportsman furnishes himself with a light batteau, and 

 a stout experienced boatman, with a pole of twelve or fifteen feet long, 

 thickened at the lower end to prevent it from sinking too deep into 

 the mud. About two hours or so before high water they enter the 

 reeds, and each takes his post, the sportsman standing in the bow 

 ready for action, the boatman on the stern seat pushing her steadily 

 through the reeds. The Rail generally spring singly, as the boat 

 advances, and at a short distance ahead, are instantly shot down, 

 while the boatman, keeping his eye on the spot where the bird fell, 



