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The Incredible, Edible Rail
The Upland Almanac
|Spring 2020
Imagine hunting a certified, managed, abundant, controlled game bird that requires no trees, no brush, no dogs, no walking, no experience, and no skill. Welcome to the world of rail hunting, where the daily bag limit is 25 birds, and missing even one shot is considered a laughable offense.

What is this thing, the rail? A hairy-feathered coastal shorebird about the size of a dishrag with comparable flying abilities, the rail is closely related to crakes, coots, and gallinules. Sound familiar? Of course not! Most hunters have never seen a rail, let alone a crake or a gallinule, and the few who have, primarily saltwater marsh fishermen, utter the same refrain: “What the heck was that?” Good question.
Rails are also one of the most common — and underutilized — game birds worldwide. Rails are federally regulated game birds loosely managed as migratory waterfowl (even though their feet are not webbed). In Maine, for example, rails are considered to be migratory game birds but not migratory waterfowl, like the American woodcock. A migratory waterfowl stamp is not required to hunt them, but a steel shot is required — which makes as much sense as anything else related to rails!
And, yes, you can eat rails. They’re all dark breast meat that’s delicious grilled or broiled.
These unusual ground birds thrive in the mucky coastal wetlands on both sides of North America, but most of the hunting activity takes place in the East. While it is possible to hunt them at low tide (not for the faint of heart), most experts wait until the full moon high tide to pursue them.
For all intents and purposes, rail hunting is a two-person sport. Most rail hunters use a canoe, kayak or traditional lightweight, wooden skiff paddled or poled through the flooded reeds by one man while the shooter sits in front. Some skiffs are sturdy, stable and designed to include a platform for a retriever to ride on, but these high-end units are favored only by thoroughly obsessed rail hunters who, surprisingly, do exist.
This story is from the Spring 2020 edition of The Upland Almanac.
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