Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1888-09-23
A RARA AVIS.
OUR VIRGINIA soIA-wHAT IT Is AND
HOW KILLED.
II, Habits = Some of the supsrstitions
A Description OF
Hunt.
Wrsr PorSr. Va, Sept. %, 1883.

To the Editor Of tho DlspdfcH:
Now that the season for shooting tho
cora fHalius Aouatictls) is upon ms q
few remarks about this curious little bird
nav not be out OF place. What Is his
proper name, whence does he come, anu
whittier disappear so suddenly and mys-
terionsly? In our State they are known
as sora. A Western-Shore-of- Maryland
man would swear by the shades OF bis
forefathers that it is an ortalan, an East
ern-Shore or Delaware citizen would aver
on stack of Bibles that,it is the rail'blrd
or waterfall, and a Carolinian would
stake his last dollar that it Is the nee
bird. The fact is it is identicaliy the
same bird with the name varying accord
ing to the locality. ~ rose by any
other NAME" etc. and a sora with
any other appellation is the same
delicate and delicious edible. They
first make their appearance in this lati-
tude about the 18th Of September and
feed upon the wild oats which grow SO
luxuriantly on rie marshes OF the Allan
tic coast. Their appearance Is very sud-
den-the marsh may be devoid OF any
yestige of them one day and the next be
alive with myriads darling among the
reeds and grass or tiutterng above the
top. After one or two frosts they dlsap-
pear as suddenly as they came. The
colored man and brother has IA legend
that they are transmogrliied into frogs
and in the proper time assume their pro-
per form. Another idea is that they are
completely amphibious and burrow IN
the mud like turtle, and after hiber-
mating, as it were, Tor nearly year
arouse from their comotose state IN time
to eat another crop of wild oats. The
correct theory is though, L think,
that between the hours OF mid
night and dawn, when all nature
slumbers, this mysterious bird, on
noiseless pinions, wings his aerial
flight to SUMMER climes than ours. The
best time to shoot them is on very high
tide, and if the day is cloudy or, per-
haps, little drizzly so much the better.
There is no class of hunting more keen
" enjoyed by good shots, and they
would not forego the pleasure II they
saw six agues grim and gaunt staring at
them in every marsh. The tide is Just
right. and in our little skiff, impelled by
professional pusher, we skirt q long,
low line of beautiful marsh-land, green
and waving in the evening breeze. Pre-
sently a good opening appears and the
little craft ghdes in among the reeds and
wild oats. Our pusher lays down his
paddle, bares his sunburned and brawny
arm, and takes the pushing-pole, an ar
ticle about ten feet long with forked
end, and strikes on the side OF the boat.
1t is answered by innumerable chr
rups OF the unsuspectlDg sora. All
right, he says, and soon the woods
and hills are echoing back rounds
which mean death and destruction to On
innocent victim. After about two hours
bloody work the tide begins to fall
rapidly, and wo have to seek deeper
water. Then we count the spolls-six
dozen toothsome dafntes lying III the
bottom Of the boat TO be strictly
truthful, your correspondent, being q
wretched shot, never killed but one IN
his life. and he WAS sitting still, then 1t
took both barrels Of gun to complete
the Job. As it was rather late IN the
evening the bird was beyond doubt
asleep. Homeward bound we glide
along the beautiful Pamunky, sometimes
in the shadow of banks oyerhung
with vines just beginning to show
the first tints of autumn on their
green leaves, then again out into
the channel in the mellow rays
of the setting SUP. Our pusher becoming
( loquacious after taking something out OF
a flask mot the one which contained the
I powder, which my friend had along with
/ him. pointed out the place where Stewart
burnt the vessels belonging to Mcclellan Is
army in bis memorable raid during the
war, aud other interesting items IN reie-
renee to those dark and stormy times.
Everything now being SO quiet, peace
full, and still, we are foroibly reminded
of Scott in his Lay of the Last Minstrel
Sweet Teyiot by thy siiyery tide
The glaring yale-nre CLEANS no more;
No longer meil-clad warriors ride
] Along thy wild aud widowed shore.
| Wher8er thou Windst by dale or hill,
All all ia peaceful, all h still,
Asst thy waves since time was born,
Since first they rolled upon the Tweed,
Had only heard tho shepherds leed.
Nor started at the Dugle horn.
F. G.