Near Brainerd, Minn. – One can spend a lifetime outdoors and never see a sora.
A what? you ask.
A sora. It's a fist-sized game bird that lives a reclusive existence in marshes and wetlands across the United States. Yes, Minnesota, too. In fact, soras are the most common and widely distributed member of the rail family in North America.
Well, that doesn't help much, you add.
OK, toss a fist-sized rock into a Minnesota marsh or slough and at the splash you might hear a resounding "peep" from the little birds. Or, if you sit quietly near a cattail marsh or wild rice bog you might hear a sora sing, especially in spring. The sound is a rapidly descending whinny. Maybe you've heard it before but could not identify the source.
Last week on a cool but sunny morning, I entered a blind I had placed weeks earlier along the shore of a small marsh. My plan was to photograph wetland birds, ducks mostly, but any bird species that happened along. Maybe a heron, a red-winged blackbird, a kingfisher …
I knew soras lived among the cattails and wild rice that grew in the pond because I had heard them calling now and then. Still, I had slim hope of seeing one of the odd little birds.
I peered out of a portal after settling in the blind. To my left was a thick stand of cattails, so dense that I could only see a few feet into the vegetation. Looking right I noted the plant life was more open. Sedge grasses and horsetail grew nearby, and cattails filled in down the shoreline.
