THE VIRGINIA RAIL 143 



Across the field by the flashing weir, 



Slowly, solemnly stalking. 

 The little frogs in the tules hear, 

 And jump for their lives if he comes near; 

 The fishes scuttle away in fear, 



When the sandhill crane goes walking. 



The field folk know if he comes that way, 



Slowly, solemnly stalking, 

 There is danger and death in the least delay, 



When the sandhill crane goes walking. 

 The chipmunks stop in the midst of play; 

 The gophers hide in their holes away; 

 And "Hush, oh, hush!" the field mice say, 



When the sandhill crane goes walking. 



MRS. MARY AUSTIN, in St. Nicholas. 1 



THE FAMILY OF RAILS 



Rallidae 



From the stately crane to the timid, self-effacing VIR- 

 GINIA RAIL 2 is going at one step from the sublime to the 

 ridiculous. To the latter, which is a bird about half the size 

 of a bob-white, a crane must seem like a giant whose head 

 is in the clouds. The crane can either fight, run or fly away; 

 but the rail is safe only when threading the mazes of a reedy 

 marsh, where no enemy can follow it far. When boating 

 on a marsh filled with cat-tails, or reeds, or tall grass, you 

 may hear a score of rails clucking and calling in the heart of 

 the green tangle about you without seeing one. There are 

 times when it seems as if this bird is a deliberate and inten- 

 tional ventriloquist, for its voice seems to come from all di- 

 rections save that which points toward its owner. A marsh 

 is as necessary to rails as water is to fishes. 



1 By permission of The Century Co. and of the author* 



2 Ral'lus virginianus. Average length, 9 inches. 



