jode hillman
Well-known member
When the sweltering dog days of summer begin to wane, small secretive denizens of the marsh begin to arrive in Southern New Jersey. Rails, depending on species range from about the size of a Robin (Sora Rail) to slightly smaller than a Teal (King and Clappers) Rail hunting was the first real advent of hunting for leisure in the United States (as opposed to mass killing for market) and ushered in the age of the hunter/ conservationist. Artists like Thomas Eakins enjoyed rail shooting on the marshes of Delaware Bay, and this theme is the subject matter for several of his famous early works.
Being a lifelong outdoorsman and living in the Traditional “heart” of rail country it was quite ironic that I had never hunted for Sora’s in the age old way. (Poled thru the marsh in a handmade Railbird Skiff) I had shoot Clappers while duck hunting or for an early season adventure. But that pales in comparison the tradition, class and sheer excitement of hunting Sora Rail in the Rice marshes of Down Jersey.
For several years I had received invitations from two friends of mine to be their guest on a Rail shoot. Do to family or work commitments I was never able to oblige Rick and Frank. This year was different. With a nice high tides predicted, (one must hunt rails when the high tides makes poling across the rice flats possible) and a good crop of birds on the marsh I was able to finally say “Yes” to this adventure. On this trip I would also be bringing along a brand new hunter, my friend Adam (13) to experience his very first try at wing shooting.
The night prior to the hunt I checked my gun, cleaned it and realized all of my non-toxic shot was much to large (size 4 or larger) Sora’s are lightly built graceful creatures so small bore guns and light loads are key. A desperate call to the local mom and pop shop secured me two boxes of prized #7 steel shot. As I loaded the truck I let my mind wander to what the day would hold. The forecast was calling for rain, but even that couldn’t dampen my spirits.
High tide was predicted at 2:37 PM for our hunting location. Rick suggested we meet at 11:00 AM to give us time to get to the shooting grounds and allow an early start should the tide come up quicker than anticipated. Rick has been hunting and guiding for rails for over 30 years. He uses a handmade Fiberglass skiff he built especially for this purpose. Though he got out of the guiding business several years ago his knowledge of the River, cover, and tradition of Rail hunting is hard to beat. His father started him pushing clients at 15 and his wiry stature is deceiving as he can easily move a hulking gunner, boat and gear over thick vegetation and a mere skin of water. My pusher for the Day, Frank is cut of the same cloth, though he would be easily mistaken on the street for a linebacker or MMA fighter. Quiet with a quick smile, he handled his Sassafras framed, Cedar planked skiff with a skill that spoke of his many years on the water.
After a half hour tip down river we arrived at the first of the flats we were to hunt for the day. Prior reports revealed this spot had produced exceedingly well several days previous. As Frank and Rick muscled the boats through the still rising water, Lack of Flushing Rail and the finding of other guides lost bird Markers ( brightly colored buoys used to mark downed birds) soon began to indicate this meadow was probably shot out. Rick made the call we would head farther South yet. As we were pushing to the edge of the last rice Island to access our route south, a quick yet distinctive black flash caught my eye. I mentioned this to Frank who poled me to the spot. A quick flush, flutter, and BANG later, my first Sora lay softly on the Rice.
As we retrieved it, its dainty form, beautiful colors and Quirky smirk made me an instant fan! I can’t quite describe the feeling, but it was as if I discovered something I never knew I lost.
Our trip to the southern grounds proved to be a wise decision as our next push Flushed Multiple Sora’s of which I shot perfectly. Up until now Adam, who was a little apprehensive on zones of fire etc, had not shot his gun. Rick, who was the gracious host, was determined to change that. The next Sora, that was spotted running, was marked in a clump of Rice. Rick positioned the boat deftly, allowing Adam the best possible angle for a shot. As the rail jumped Adam drew a bead, swung and fired. A beautiful one shot kill. I had to opportunity to see it all from 30 yards away and it was as pretty a scene as Eakins could paint. From there we continued to criss-cross the fresh real estate, putting up Rails every so often. Sometimes they would run and evade us, other times flush wild and make it to the cover of the nearby Woods. All in all it was a wonderful way to live a day. The highlight for me (or low light) was when Frank spotted a larger Cinnamon colored Rail dart through a hole in the rice,” Virginia!” he exclaimed, referring to the somewhat rare and extremely beautiful relative of the Sora, not often seen or taken in these parts. My pulse began to quicken, my neck feel tight, I was amped and anxious to make the shot. The Virginia flushed a mere three feet from the boat and my first shot was rushed and much to quick, I watched as the shot wad opened up 20 feet after it passed the bird. I drew a fresh bead thereafter and swung on the now crossing Rail. The shot echoed of the tree line as I watched the Virginia glide safely to the cover of a cattail stand 40 yards away. Disappointed with my shooting I longed to chase it, but Rick, ever the purist, echoed the refrain, “We ain’t here to chase one bird, let him be!” And so it was. The bird beat me, some would call it Buck fever, or nerves, I call it hunting. Hunting a quarry so noble you let it live out of respect for it all. Respect for the bird, the environment, the tradition. Respect For the opportunity to do something so engaging with good friends, in a free country.
Ricks goal in the hunt was to pass along the tradition to the next generation. I think that was well accomplished. Adam and I added several more Sora’s to our bag. But that was not the true measure of the day. That came in abundance. An abundance of laughs, an abundance of stunning vistas and for Frank and Rick and abundance of Advil that night before bed!
As Rick once said “Rail Hunting is the best few hour hunt you can hope to have” and I for one could not agree more!
The caravan out
Ricks 'glass Skiff
Rick and Adam Heading to the shooting Grounds.
Frank coming over to pick me up from the tender
A boat under construction
Rick working Adam in position for a shot.
Me and the guy doing the work.
Our bag on the front of Franks Boat.
A Video of Adam shot. ( He's still working on the gun mount thing!)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZT7FS_zhXs
Rick on a perfect setup. Love the forgiving smile at the end.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kS0fMGp9VS8
Being a lifelong outdoorsman and living in the Traditional “heart” of rail country it was quite ironic that I had never hunted for Sora’s in the age old way. (Poled thru the marsh in a handmade Railbird Skiff) I had shoot Clappers while duck hunting or for an early season adventure. But that pales in comparison the tradition, class and sheer excitement of hunting Sora Rail in the Rice marshes of Down Jersey.
For several years I had received invitations from two friends of mine to be their guest on a Rail shoot. Do to family or work commitments I was never able to oblige Rick and Frank. This year was different. With a nice high tides predicted, (one must hunt rails when the high tides makes poling across the rice flats possible) and a good crop of birds on the marsh I was able to finally say “Yes” to this adventure. On this trip I would also be bringing along a brand new hunter, my friend Adam (13) to experience his very first try at wing shooting.
The night prior to the hunt I checked my gun, cleaned it and realized all of my non-toxic shot was much to large (size 4 or larger) Sora’s are lightly built graceful creatures so small bore guns and light loads are key. A desperate call to the local mom and pop shop secured me two boxes of prized #7 steel shot. As I loaded the truck I let my mind wander to what the day would hold. The forecast was calling for rain, but even that couldn’t dampen my spirits.
High tide was predicted at 2:37 PM for our hunting location. Rick suggested we meet at 11:00 AM to give us time to get to the shooting grounds and allow an early start should the tide come up quicker than anticipated. Rick has been hunting and guiding for rails for over 30 years. He uses a handmade Fiberglass skiff he built especially for this purpose. Though he got out of the guiding business several years ago his knowledge of the River, cover, and tradition of Rail hunting is hard to beat. His father started him pushing clients at 15 and his wiry stature is deceiving as he can easily move a hulking gunner, boat and gear over thick vegetation and a mere skin of water. My pusher for the Day, Frank is cut of the same cloth, though he would be easily mistaken on the street for a linebacker or MMA fighter. Quiet with a quick smile, he handled his Sassafras framed, Cedar planked skiff with a skill that spoke of his many years on the water.
After a half hour tip down river we arrived at the first of the flats we were to hunt for the day. Prior reports revealed this spot had produced exceedingly well several days previous. As Frank and Rick muscled the boats through the still rising water, Lack of Flushing Rail and the finding of other guides lost bird Markers ( brightly colored buoys used to mark downed birds) soon began to indicate this meadow was probably shot out. Rick made the call we would head farther South yet. As we were pushing to the edge of the last rice Island to access our route south, a quick yet distinctive black flash caught my eye. I mentioned this to Frank who poled me to the spot. A quick flush, flutter, and BANG later, my first Sora lay softly on the Rice.
As we retrieved it, its dainty form, beautiful colors and Quirky smirk made me an instant fan! I can’t quite describe the feeling, but it was as if I discovered something I never knew I lost.
Our trip to the southern grounds proved to be a wise decision as our next push Flushed Multiple Sora’s of which I shot perfectly. Up until now Adam, who was a little apprehensive on zones of fire etc, had not shot his gun. Rick, who was the gracious host, was determined to change that. The next Sora, that was spotted running, was marked in a clump of Rice. Rick positioned the boat deftly, allowing Adam the best possible angle for a shot. As the rail jumped Adam drew a bead, swung and fired. A beautiful one shot kill. I had to opportunity to see it all from 30 yards away and it was as pretty a scene as Eakins could paint. From there we continued to criss-cross the fresh real estate, putting up Rails every so often. Sometimes they would run and evade us, other times flush wild and make it to the cover of the nearby Woods. All in all it was a wonderful way to live a day. The highlight for me (or low light) was when Frank spotted a larger Cinnamon colored Rail dart through a hole in the rice,” Virginia!” he exclaimed, referring to the somewhat rare and extremely beautiful relative of the Sora, not often seen or taken in these parts. My pulse began to quicken, my neck feel tight, I was amped and anxious to make the shot. The Virginia flushed a mere three feet from the boat and my first shot was rushed and much to quick, I watched as the shot wad opened up 20 feet after it passed the bird. I drew a fresh bead thereafter and swung on the now crossing Rail. The shot echoed of the tree line as I watched the Virginia glide safely to the cover of a cattail stand 40 yards away. Disappointed with my shooting I longed to chase it, but Rick, ever the purist, echoed the refrain, “We ain’t here to chase one bird, let him be!” And so it was. The bird beat me, some would call it Buck fever, or nerves, I call it hunting. Hunting a quarry so noble you let it live out of respect for it all. Respect for the bird, the environment, the tradition. Respect For the opportunity to do something so engaging with good friends, in a free country.
Ricks goal in the hunt was to pass along the tradition to the next generation. I think that was well accomplished. Adam and I added several more Sora’s to our bag. But that was not the true measure of the day. That came in abundance. An abundance of laughs, an abundance of stunning vistas and for Frank and Rick and abundance of Advil that night before bed!
As Rick once said “Rail Hunting is the best few hour hunt you can hope to have” and I for one could not agree more!
The caravan out
Ricks 'glass Skiff
Rick and Adam Heading to the shooting Grounds.
Frank coming over to pick me up from the tender
A boat under construction
Rick working Adam in position for a shot.
Me and the guy doing the work.
Our bag on the front of Franks Boat.
A Video of Adam shot. ( He's still working on the gun mount thing!)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZT7FS_zhXs
Rick on a perfect setup. Love the forgiving smile at the end.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kS0fMGp9VS8
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