In the Floridas, this bird is more abundant than even in Louisiana; and I met with it frequently in the course of my wanderings there, not only on the mainland, but also on several of the keys, where they begin breeding in March. On Sandy Island, near Cape Sable, I found several pairs, in May 1832. About New Orleans it commences breeding at the same period. Dr Bachman has procured specimens near Charleston. I have also found a few near Vincennes on the Wabash River in summer, when they had young broods. In the course of my stay at the Silver Springs in East Florida, I observed a good number of these birds along the margins of the lakes and swampy bayous, and had ample opportunities of assuring myself that this species is far from being nocturnal, as authors have alleged, at least when in places where they are under no apprehension of danger. In those sultry solitudes I have at times seen them following the margins of the muddy shores, with delicate and measured steps, until attracted by something worthy of their attention, when they suddenly jerked their tail upwards and for a moment disappeared. Again, they would gracefully leap upon the slender twig of some low shrub or bush, apparently in search of small snails or other objects, jerking their tail at every movement. There it was that I again saw the extraordinary power of contraction which their body is able to assume while they are pushing forward between two or more stubborn branches. They were all so gentle that I at times approached within a few yards of them, when they would now and then look cunningly at me, rise more erect for a moment, and then resume their occupations.
When searched for by a dog, they seem as if determined to put him out by continual manœuvring, running and cutting backwards within a few yards of extent until the dog can no longer follow the last trail. Just then they rise on wing, or run off to some other spot equally adapted for security. A friend of mine who resides in New Orleans, and has shot some hundreds of this species, told me that the best method of obtaining a shot is to lie concealed near an opening in the grass, and call the bird out of cover by imitating its notes, when in a few minutes, being extremely pugnacious, it comes to the clear space, and may be easily shot. Its flesh is delicate and savoury.
The nest somewhat resembles that of Rallus elegans. It is generally placed upon the ground in the centre of a thick tuft of grass, and the bed of it is at times elevated above the soil to the height of four or five inches. It is composed of weeds of various kinds, and is now and then covered over in the same manner as that of our Meadow Lark. The eggs are from eight to ten, pure white, thin-shelled, and measure 1 1/8 inch by nearly seven eighths. The young are at first black, and are able to follow their parents almost immediately after birth. I am induced to believe that two, or perhaps three, broods are reared in the season.
The flight of this pretty little bird is rather swift, and more protracted than that of some of our Rails, especially when put up by a dog coming inadvertently upon it. At other times, when in places not frequented, it rises and removes to a distance rarely exceeding thirty or forty yards, falling as it were among the grass with wings stretched upwards and dangling legs. The gizzard is large and muscular, as in the Water-hen and our other Rails. One which I opened was filled with minute fresh-water shell-fish and gravel. They feed also on insects of various kinds, and the seeds of grasses.
My friend Thomas Nuttall has so well described the notes of this bird, that I cannot do better than present you with his account of them. “On the 6th of October (1831), having spent the night in a lodge, on the borders of Fresh Pond, employed for decoying and shooting Ducks, I heard, about sunrise, the Yellow breasted Rails begin to stir among the reeds (Arundo Phragmites) that thickly skirt this retired border of the lake, and in which, among a host of various kinds of Blackbirds, they had for sometime roosted every night. As soon as awake, they called out in an abrupt and cackling cry, ’krèk, ’krèk, ’krèk, ’krèk, ’kuk’ k’kh, which note, apparently from the young, was answered by the parent (probably the hen), in a lower soothing note. The whole of these uncouth and guttural notes have no bad resemblance to the croaking of the tree frog, as to sound. This call and answer, uttered every morning, is thus kept up for several minutes in various tones, till the whole family, separated for the night, have met and satisfactorily recognised each other.”
I once shot a female bird of this species near New Orleans upon which I had nearly trodden as she was on the nest and about to lay an egg, and which she dropped as she flew before me, previously to my touching the trigger. In August and September I have found this species uncommonly fat, and most delicious. The difficulty of procuring them, however, renders them a rarity for the table even in those parts of the country where they are most abundant.
I have no doubt that a few stragglers now and then go far north to breed, as I find in the Fauna Boreali-Americana the following note from Mr Hutchins’s manuscripts:—“This elegant bird is an inhabitant of the marshes (on the coast of Hudson’s Bay, near the efflux of Severn River, where Mr Hutchins resided) from the middle of May to the end of September. It never flies above sixty yards at a time, but runs with great rapidity among the long grass near the shores. In the morning and evening it utters a note, which resembles the striking of a flint and steel; at other times it makes a shrieking noise. It builds no nest, but lays from ten to sixteen perfectly white eggs among the grass.”
Now, this making no nest is to me a convincing proof that the species is not there in its natural place, but finding itself pushed for time, and yet obliged to breed, is contented to do so under unfavourable circumstances. Dr Richardson, who spent several years in the northern parts of America, did not meet with this species. I saw none in Labrador or Newfoundland; and in the British provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, the only bird of this family known is the Sora, Rallus carolinus.
Gallinula Noveboracensis, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 771.
Rallus Noveboracensis, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of United States, p. 335.—Ch. Bonaparte, American Ornith. vol. iv. p. 136, pl. 27, fig. 2.