TEES ORAS RAMI. 609 
Like the Clapper Rail of California the Sora rises to a dog; or if caught 
feeding inshore some little way from his watery fastnesses, he flits over the 
tops of the reeds, drops down suddenly, and loses himself immediately in the 
maze. It is idle to follow him when alarmed, for he will not rise again save 
under exceptional circumstances. Immense numbers of these birds are 
slaughtered yearly, especially along the Atlantic Coast. They have this at 
least to recommend them,—that they are easy practice for juvenile hunters. 
They afford less meat, however, than so many English Sparrows, and qualms 
of conscience make poor sauce. 
Tho rightly counted shy, the Sora possesses one trait which brings it into 
frequent notice—curiosity. Often when I have been lying in a boat waiting 
for ducks, among the aquatic plants, some little distance off shore and removed 
from the usual haunts of the Sora, I have heard sundry keks half appre- 
hensive, half quizzical, followed by the plashing of light feet as a troop of 
the little Rails worked their way out and surrounded me, under pretense, 
indeed, of searching for food, but being all too plainly prompted by inquisitive- 
ness. Dr. Howard Jones tells of similar experiences: “I have had them 
come up to me and peck my gum boots, and play with the gun barrel as a 
bantam rooster does when teased.” 
A slight platform of rushes or a shallow basket of woven cat-tail leaves 
and grasses serves for a nest. A site is chosen anywhere in the swamp, 
but usually in a rather open situation. Sometimes a tussock of grass is used, 
and the growing blades curl over to conceal this anchored ark of bulrushes. 
The Sora is a little more prolific than her cousin, the Virginia, a dozen eggs 
being commonly found, and fourteen and fifteen not infrequently. In the 
latter case the eggs are apt to be in two layers. The ochraceous cast of the 
ground color is unmistakable, and the spots are both more numerous and 
of a duller brown than those of FR. virgimanus. 
Nothing could be at once more interesting and more comical than the 
appearance of a young Sora just out of the shell. He is, to begin with, a ball 
of down as black as jet, and he has a most ridiculous tuft of orange chin 
whiskers. Add to this a bright red protuberance at the base of the upper 
mandible and an air of defiance, and you have a very clown. And such 
precocity! Once, ina secluded spot, I came upon a nestful at the critical time. 
Hearing my distant footsteps most Gr the brood had taken to their new-found 
heels, leaving two luckless wights im ovo. At my approach one more prison 
door flew open. The absurd fluff-ball rolled out, shook itself, grasped the 
situation, promptly tumbled over the side of the nest, and started to swim 
across a six-foot pool to safety. 
