The Yellow Rail 
three feet of a low-lying cushion, which held, in a compact and perfect 
circle, eight fresh eggs. The cover of marsh grass was scanty, not over 
eighteen inches high, and the water shallow—an inch or so; yet there was 
no trace of a bird about. The eggs were ‘different’—no doubt of that; 
much smaller than those of a Sora, which we had, fortunately, just ex¬ 
amined ; of a dark, old-ivory color, heavily sprinkled, almost capped at the 
larger end, with rich reddish brown spots. The nest itself was non¬ 
committal, a well-rounded and rather deep bowl of coiled grasses, three 
and a half inches across by two in depth inside, built up to a height of 
three inches clear of the water. Notably, there was present a leaning 
and overshadowing wisp of dead grass. I considered the exhibit long 
and carefully, too sobered, for once, to render snap-judgment. The boys 
became impatient and pressed for an expression of opinion. Finally, I 
said, ‘Well, boys, to the best of my knowledge and belief, these are 
eggs of the Yellow Rail (Coturnicops noveboracensis ), the first breeding 
record for California, and the first set ever taken west of the Rocky 
Mountains.’ 
“We left the eggs undisturbed and tagged the spot with cotton tufts. 
Returning ten minutes later, 1 found no bird. Returning again after half 
an hour and stooping over the nest attentively, I saw that one of the eggs 
had been moved, pried over on top of the others. Then the bird’s nerves 
gave way, and she flushed from a spot two feet beyond the nest and not 
over five feet from my face. I watched her keenly, as with feeble, vacil¬ 
lating flight she passed at a height of two or three feet above the sedge- 
tops, and plumped down some seventy-five feet away. The bird was un¬ 
mistakably smaller and otherwise different from the Sora, which we had 
recently observed, also in flight. I got no impression of yellow; but since 
the flight of the bird was quartering against the sun, that is not surprising. 
“Although we spent another day in the swamp, we saw no further 
trace of Yellow Rails, unless a nest ‘ready for eggs,’ discovered by the 
boys but unseen by me, belonged to this species. 
“Compared in the cabinet with a set, n/8, of Yellow Rail’s eggs, 
taken last year by Rev. P. B. Peabody, there can be no possible doubt of 
the correct identification of these Long Valley specimens. I quite agree 
with Mr. Peabody that they are absolutely unlike the eggs of any other 
American species. The eggs were slightly incubated, and the albumen 
so stiff that it was rather difficult of removal. The set, Rno—8-22, 
averages mm 28.8 x 20.4 in dimensions, and the ground-color is a trifle 
darker than that of the North Dakota specimens.” 
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