312 BULLETIN 135^ UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



killed to afford really good sport, in which the bird should have a 

 sporting chance for its life. My experience with rail shooting has 

 been limited to one day on the marshes of Essex, Connecticut, as 

 the guest of Dr. L. C. Sanford. It was the opening day of the 

 season and we each shot the legal Umit, 35 birds, in a very short 

 time. His description of it is so much better than anything I can 

 write, that I prefer to quote from Doctor Sanford (1903), as follows: 



When the wild oats along the tidal rivers of our coast begin to turn yellow 

 with the first touch of fall, the time for rail has come, and the high tides of Sep- 

 tember give the sportsman his first chance. The Connecticut River, where it 

 broadens into the Sound, is one of the favorite haunts of these birds. Here Essex 

 is the usual destination. Some 3 miles up the river from Say brook, the little town 

 of Essex, with its one hotel and old-fashioned houses, looks now pretty much as 

 it did a hundred years ago. Rail tides generally come toward the middle of the 

 day, and the pusher is waiting for you at the landing; you stand for a minute 

 looking up and down the broad expanse of river. Everywhere along the shore 

 are wavy patches of high grass reaching far out into the water. These are the 

 wild oats, and here live the rail. A strong tide is running in, and you step into 

 a flat-bottomed skiff, which is rigged with a high stool firmly tied to the front 

 seat. The only task now is to sit still on this stool and be shoved. A short 

 row up the river and you are in the midst of thick wild oats, so high it is 

 difficult in many places to see over the tops, even from your exalted position. 

 A flutter just ahead, and a rail rises, shot almost before it cleared the grass; a 

 few feathers alone are left to tell the fate of the first bird of the season. The 

 next is given a chance to get in range, and the score is two; three or four more 

 straight exalt a man's idea of his shooting abihty — without reason, though, for no 

 easier mark ever flew in front of a gun. Now a rail runs among some broken grass 

 ahead of the boat, and a whack from the pusher's pole starts him; at the shot 

 half a dozen teal jump within range, and the last one is feathered but not 

 stopped. Presently several rail start in quick succession; you fire, and load, 

 and fire again — not a miss yet, but all idea of definite direction is lost and the 

 last bird is the only one marked. Here a clever pusher shows his skill, and 

 after you have given up all thought of retrieving he picks them up in order. 

 Under these circumstances painted blocks can be used and tossed out to mark 

 the dead birds before the position of the boat is changed. The time of high tide 

 is short, but sufficient; every few seconds a bird rises, its slow flight affording a 

 sure mark; generally in front or to the side, occasionally behind, when you are 

 startled by the pusher's yell "Hi, rail!" in time to try a long shot. Sometimes 

 a larger bird, of the same general appearance and similar flight, starts up. 

 This is a clapper rail, known by many of our gunners as marsh hen. About 

 Essex they are rare. Sometimes, too, a mud hen flops out over the tops. In 

 some instances mud hens are quite common on the rail grounds. The Florida 

 gallinule is also a straggler here. Rail keep fluttering from the grass, less often 

 now, though, than an hour ago, but you have some time since reached the 

 limit — as well, for a falling tide makes the pushing hard and the birds refuse to rise. 

 Most of the birds are soras; occasionally the longer bill and darker coloring 

 mark a Virginia rail. An occasional chattering note tells of the presence of a rail, 

 secure in the high grass, until the next high tide. A lone bittern wings his way 

 to some safer spot, and this is our last glimpse of the marsh. 



Before there were any bag Umits on rails, much larger numbers 

 were killed; as many as 195 rails have been killed by one man on a 



