Toss a fist-sized rock into almost any freshwater marsh or slough and at the splash you’ll likely hear a resounding “peep” from a secretive little game bird called a sora. Launch a boat into the same marsh, load it with two hunters, a dog and a push-pole, and you have the makings of a sora hunt. Wait a minute. Why would a cryptic bird like a sora--a bird that is rarely seen if not purposely pursued-- announce its presence to the world with a loud “peep” when a stone splashes nearby? It’s an odd trait displayed by an equally odd bird. Mother Nature is a mad scientist.

Even more peculiar than the sora--and much more rare--are the hunters that pursue these fist-sized marsh birds, but that is exactly what a few friends and I do each fall.

Sora Facts
The sora is a member of the Rallidae family, which also includes coots and rails. Soras are common in freshwater wetlands across most of the U.S. The small, plump, nine inch-long soras have yellow beaks and stilt-like green legs with long toes that enable them it to scoot across the water on matted vegetation. Soras will occasionally swim short distances over open water, and will sometimes dive under water to escape predators. This mysterious bird eats a variety of seeds including wild rice, insects and snails.

I live in Minnesota, and the hunting season for soras begins on September 1 and closes in November. Soras, like blue-winged teal, migrate early, and since a late summer cold snap can send them southward, we hunt soon after the season opener. We often pursue soras in the same wild rice marshes in which we hunt ducks a few weeks later, so the sora hunts double as scouting trips for waterfowl.

We aren’t the only predators seeking a sora supper. Lurking beneath the wild rice, cattails, lily pads and duckweed in which soras live are largemouth bass and northern pike. Last fall I watched a sora hotfoot across the water’s surface just a few feet in front of my boat when suddenly the water exploded. The retreating bird disappeared into the maw of a bass.

Flushing a sora remains the toughest challenge...

A friend once noticed, during the task of removing a hook from the jaw of big bass, the green feet and legs of an unfortunate sora protruding from the gullet of the fish.

So, along with our shotguns, we often toss fishing rods into the boat--a cast-and-blast for bass and soras.