This is one of our fresh-water marsh birds. I show you his picture
taken where he spends most of his time.
If it were not for the note calls, these tall reeds and grasses would
keep from us the secret of the Rail's home.
Like most birds, though, they must be heard, and so late in the
afternoon you may hear their clear note, ker-wee.
From all parts of the marsh you will hear their calls which they keep
up long after darkness has set in.
This Rail was just about to step out from the grasses to feed when the
artist took his picture. See him--head up, and tail up. He steps along
carefully. He feels that it is risky to leave his shelter and is ready
at the first sign of danger, to dart back under cover.
There are very few fresh-water marshes where the Rail is not found.
When a boy, I loved to hear their note calls and would spend hours on
the edge of a marsh near my home.
It seemed to me there was no life among the reeds and cat-tails of the
marsh, but when I threw a stone among them, the Rails would always
answer with their _peeps_ or _keeks_.
And so I used to go down to the marsh with my pockets filled with
stones. Not that I desired or even expected to injure one of these
birds. Far from it. It pleased me to hear their calls from the reeds
and grass that seemed deserted.
Those of you who live near wild-rice or wild-oat marshes have a good
chance to become acquainted with this Rail.
In the south these Rails are found keeping company with the Bobolinks
or Reed-birds as they are called down there.