It is 11:30 PM and the moon hasn’t come up yet. Above me are millions of stars shinning brightly in the black night sky. Below me is ankle deep water and a continuous waist deep mat of reeds, sedges and grass for hundreds of acres in all directions. At times it seems there are as many lightning bugs as there are stars in the sky. Each step I take is fraught with peril. The spongy mat feels stable under foot until my entire weight is applied then its back into ankle deep water. Every now and then the bottom drops out and my foot plunges in deep bring the water up to mid thigh. The thick mat of vegetation grabs at my feet and ankle and tries to trip me with each step I take in the darkness.
It has taken the three of us nearly 30 minutes to “walk” only 300 yard and we are still not to our destination. A friend has let me use a pair of chest waders that were too large and missing the suspenders. I have fashioned a bungee cord to hold up the rubberized boots and it is now cutting deeply into my shoulders. And as usual, I am carrying several thousands of dollars of camera equipment that won’t fair too well if dropped into the water.
What I have come to see and photograph in this northern Minnesota location is one of the most secretive and elusive birds in North America—the Yellow Rail (Coturnicops noveboracensis). In the darkness I can hear the rhythmic tapping call of the rail just ahead of us. A few more steps and we should be there.
Slowly and quietly, or as quite as one can be while walking in such conditions, we approach the sound. Deep within the thick vegetation the male Yellow Rail is giving its mating call. The sound is very similar to the sound made by two small stones being tapped together in a very rapid and irregular pattern.
After what seemed like a very long time of trying to locate the bird in the dark we decide that the bird must be directly in front of us, so we switch on the flash light. Nothing! The sound is loud and strong but we are unable to see the bird. We switch off the light and stand in the dark listening again to the rhythmic tapping. This goes on for the next hour. Switching on the light, scanning the area, and then switching it off again.
Our hopes of seeing and photographing this bird were fading when about 1 AM we switch on the light and there in the beam of our flash light is a small brown bird about the size of a sparrow with a short stout yellow bill. Its body is plump and round with a short pointed tail. It has long legs and large feet but the thick grass has hidden this feature.
Rails are a type of marsh bird with short round wings and stubby tails. They have long legs and large feet to help them navigate the thick watery habitat. They are usually secretive and hard to see but the Yellow Rail is especially secretive and to make things even more difficult they are also nocturnal. Yellow Rails are one of North Americas most elusive and mysterious birds. There is no data on their population but estimates are between 10 and 20 thousand.
Very little is known of the Yellow Rails biology, wintering grounds or other simple facts about this bird. What is known is they nest across northern Minnesota and North Dakota northward into southern Canada and they winter along the gulf coast and throughout Florida. They migrate by themselves at night. After mating the female builds a nest in the reeds and grasses and has 8-10 eggs. After hatching the young leave the nest within 24 to 48 hours to forage and they care for themselves by 3 weeks of age.
Standing the beam of light our bird has stopped calling and remains still. The flash from my camera lights up the immediate area like a lightning bolt. Again and again the flash goes off and the bird doesn’t even notice it. Slowly it starts to preen its feathers and going about its nocturnal activities as if nothing has happened.
In hushed whispers we congratulate each other on this outstanding find and photographic opportunity. Just at that moment we realize we have a long and treacherous walk back to our cars. We turn in the darkness and start the long slow march back with a very large grin on our faces.