doublegunshop.com - home Forums General Discussion DoubleGun BBS @ doublegunshop.com hunting rails story

Kevin Springman's question about rails brought back memories that I think may be of some interest. Mid to late sixties, I used to hunt with a friend who's wife was also a hunter. People say that if you can remember the sixties you weren't there but I remember this day. We were on the marsh across form Ocean City, NJ: a scorching September afternoon, all of us covered in mud and hung about with muddy rails. My friend shoots a Clapper that makes it to the middle of a waterway and is rapidly floating away on the tide. A dog , even the best trained, will drink the salt water in those hot conditions so we hunted dogless. Quick as lighting, this girl gets naked, not that she was wearing much anyway, charges into the water, swims like hell and returns with the dead rail in her teeth. Pretty soon we were all doubled over with laughter. Sadly time has done it's work, he was killed in the seventies and she was felled by her wild ways but I still smile when I'm reminded of rail hunting.
Nial

Nial, That's the kind of retriever that I have been looking for my whole life. Good story. I hope to meet up with you again. Maybe we could shoot some clays.

Um, Um, Ummmm !!!!
I have been lots of places and heard/told many stories. Some that began---You may not believe this, but----
Or, I swear this is true !!!!
But, never have I laughed more than I have with this one fresh in my mind.
Bless you, Nial !! You have added days to my life if laughter really does extend one.
Best,
John

Per Johns suggestion, I hunted clappers in the Assateague sloughs, and prepared a fine meal of them.
Johns menu required a couple bottles of Ripple, with a double deuce of T-bird for dessert.
I think they went down better with half a case of muscatel.

Glad to hear there are folks out there chasing the "other" birds.
I'll bet an avocet would make a fine rendition of "city chicken".
Rail hunting stories make me bust.

Soon we'll be stewing gallinules.

What about mudhen gizzards? In the Fox River Valley there is a group of hunters that regularly shoot coots (mudhens). I'm told the gizzards of these birds are good when cooked or pickled. One of the old guys I used to hunt with regularly supplied these treats at his brother-in-law's gin mill, and I'm told they went over very big with the clientel. Ever heard anything weirder than this? Chops

In my art collection is a pin and ink that John Henry Dick (for real) made for my wife and dedicated to her. It is of Avocets.
ClapperZapper---I trust that when you decanted the "wine" that you removed the floating stems and grape leaf residue floating therein.
I, being a sophisticated common sewer of wine, might have suggested a Sly Fox((1958) and red in salute to Red Fox who judged it superb) as the accompaniment to a gourmet meal of that rarest of creatures. The genetic coupling of land and sea animals. A fishy flavored flying skeleton with feathers and very long meatless legs. If size really counts, then this "bird's" feet will pass inspection admirably !!
Kevin----- I trust that you have been alert !! Wayne Nish may have the handle on woodcock, but you need to contact Clapper or me to really understand the nuances of Clapper Rail preparation and savoring.
Best,
John

Great story, nial. As John Anderson sings in one of his songs, "I wish I coulda' been there for that"!

Here's another humorous one, on me. When I was but a lad, and had the duck hunting sickness real bad, a local boy and I would slip down in the beaver ponds on Sweetwater Creek with our shotguns and ambush the woodies just before dark coming into the beaver swamps. There was this old barbed wire fence that divided our land from the neighbors and when the beavers flooded the branch it put most of it under water for a stretch about 50 yards long. Well, I shot down a woodie with my 20 ga. Model 11 which fell way out in the middle about 25 or 30 yards from the bank I was on. Normally, I just waded out and got the ducks that fell in the pond, no waders, hip boots or anything. Just got wet,.... and cold. But, it was worth it. Wasn't it? Anyway, that day I decided to try to walk the partially submerged fence out to the duck and back and stay dry. Nice plan, except for Johnny Weeks and his warped sense of humor. Picture me with feet on the second strand of wire from the top, holding on to the top strand, humped over trying to keep my balance as I sidestepped out to the middle. Of course, as the wire got deeper I tried harder and harder to maintain my upright posture, leaning over the fence to stay dry. Just as I reached the deepest point, Johnny grabs a fence post and starts pushing and pulling it back and forth in the muddy bank swaying the fence first one way then the other. Between trying to keep myself dry and getting the duck I threatened him for every vile act I could imagine doing to him. This only made him laugh and shake the fence harder. Until, finally, I got over balanced backward and, still holding onto the top wire with all my might I went over backward just enough that my butt submerged in the cold water. He had me where he wanted me all along then because there was no way for me to regain my upright position on the fence. I hung there until I gave out, cold butt and all, and finally jumped down in the water. He was laughing like some kind of demon and falling all over the bank hollering, "don'tcha know you cain't hunt ducks an' stay dry?!!".

Johnny is no more in this world, either, and I, for some reason I don't know, have been spared to enjoy this wonderful life a bit longer. Life is made of good stuff like that, ain't it?

Stan