The Sora Rail 
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 apprehensive, 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 too plainly prompted by inquisitiveness. 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.” 
Or if the bird will not show himself, a sudden clapping of the hands 
will betray him into startled ejaculation. Making the Sora “speak” is no 
end of fun; and if one is intent upon making a record horizon of birds, it 
is almost necessary to try one ruse or another. Often and often have I 
Hung a stone or a stick of wood into a wayside clump of tules to be re¬ 
warded instantly with a shouted crick creek croo , satisfying evidence that 
the Sora is on the job. 
A slight platform of rushes or a shallow basket of woven cat-tail leaves 
and grasses serves this bird for a nest. A site is chosen anywhere in the 
Taken on Big Bear Lake Photo bv W. M. Pierce 
NEST AND EGGS OF SORA RAIL, HATCHING 
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