Poling through eye-high flooded grass is a laborious task made even more difficult by the balmy temperatures. Sweat drips down my face as I nudge our narrow craft forward. From a standing position I see it first and shout “bird” as a diminutive, long-billed marsh bird rises from the dense rice beds. My companion’s 20-gauge pops twice and the bird folds neatly back into the green tangle.

It’s a scene from days gone by, a sport that’s quite foreign to most modern wildfowlers but was quite popular back in the golden age of waterfowling. The ranks are thin but there are still a few who practice the time-honored tradition of rail hunting, which is a melange of other hunting methods.

Like dove hunting, it’s an early-season endeavor done on fair- weather days when most hard-core waterfowlers are still golfing. There are always some resident birds around but the action doesn’t heat up until the first early fall fronts push migrants down, filling the freshwater, brackish and coastal marshes with an influx of long-billed, long-legged birds that fall taxonomically between shorebirds and web-footed waterfowl. Then it’s short-lived as these early migrants will soon be winging their way farther south, well ahead of the first conventional waterfowl seasons in October.

There’s also a touch of upland game hunting to it. Rails rise from cover much like a woodock, leveling off before kicking in the after burners for their escape flight. Also like woodcock, they’ll sometimes set down within sight offering a follow-up flush, and may bust out singly or in groups.

And it has all the elements of jump-shooting waterfowl. In fact, many hunters use the same sneak boats for rails that they’ll use for puddlers later in the fall. Canoes and kayaks will work but the traditional craft is a narrow sneak boat. You use a small kicker motor to get you to your destination, then switch to manual, propelling the craft with a long pole when it’s time to hunt. One hunter poles from the stern while the shooter sits ready in the bow.

Hunters try to use the narrow creeks and guzzles to their advantage, but the birds often stick to the thick cover that you’ll eventually have to grunt your way through. Acres of wild rice are a legacy left by past generations of waterfowlers. Seeded to help then troubled waterfowl populations, the beds spread throughout available habitat, providing much needed food for the annual southward migration.

Rails also inhabit freshwater marshes, which offer hunters the luxury of being able to pick their times as tide is not a factor. Still, most railers prefer the brackish marshes where and when the rising tide congregates birds into more diminished pockets.

There’s no need for decoys and waders or the heavy camo garb and high-brass 12-gauge loads of late-season waterfowling. You dress for conditions, which are often mild, and light loads in 20- or 28-gauge guns are all that’s necessary.

Few still practice this specialty sport, but it offers a welcome preseason diversion for those who do. Along with rails you’ll flush teal, mostly blue wings that serve as harbingers of the big flights of puddle ducks to come as the green grass turns to brown and the maples take on a scarlet hue. It won’t be long now.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and registered Maine guide who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at:

bhunt@maine.rr.com

Copy the Story Link