A LO W CO U N T R Y J O U R N A L F E AT U R E / / F LO O D T I D E CO.
Marsh Madness words and photography
LAWSON BUILDER
When fall rolls around in the Lowcountry, the marsh starts to buzz more so than usual. Over
the familiar sounds of skiffs running to and fro and the triumphant hoots that signal another tailer being hoisted above the grass, you might hear a little EEK-EEK-EEK screechin’ in one ear, only to hear a similar response to the call right out the other ear. What you have right there, friends, is the sound of the “Ghost of the Marsh”—the call of the Clapper Rail.
KNOWN AROUND THESE PARTS AS MARSH HEN, CLAPPER RAIL SPEND THEIR LIVES HIDING IN THE DENSE
hunts require. Sure, there’s probably a few reasons it’s not as popular as other bird hunts — mainly the small amount of meat per bird and barriers to entry, like the need for a boat — but it’s as Lowcountry as it gets.
MARSHES AND MANGROVES SPANNING THE EASTERN SEABOARD. Unlike ducks, geese, and other migratory waterfowl — yes, marsh hen are migratory — you never see these little fellas visiting the local cul-de-sac’s backyard pond. Aside from their characteristic screechin’ back and forth between the flows of marsh, they rarely reveal themselves to a passerby. Here in the Lowcountry the best chance to see these birds in the flesh is during a flood tide—yep, that same time we clamor to cast a fly or lure at tailing redfish is also the best time for marsh hen hunting. When the tides get extremely high there’s few places for the birds to hide except for small runways of thick spartina grass and the old growth, called rack, that gets caught in-between the pockets. That’s where the fun begins. Marsh hen hunting feels similar to quail hunting, but done from the bow of a boat. Although, it should be said that marsh hens aren’t as proficient at flying as quail—or really almost any bird, besides a penguin maybe. In fact, they’re downright slow. The upside, though, is an easy hunt and a great introduction to wingshooting for first time or less-experienced hunters. I include myself in the “less-experienced” category for sure, but every season I get out there for ‘em, I’m reminded why marsh hen hunting is such a good time. It can be done in a slow-paced, easy and fun way, often times accompanied by fishing the tide up to make it a “cast and blast.” Marsh hen hunting is simply fun, without all the fuss and planning that other
THE GENERAL STRATEGY FOR
HUNTING MARSH HEN IS ALMOST THE SAME AS FISHING FOR FLOOD TIDE REDS, EXCEPT YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO SPOOK WHAT YOU’RE TARGETING. It takes a two-man team to hunt these birds: one to pole the skiff and spot birds and one to shoot. As the tide gets high, we motor slowly through the marsh waiting to hear that characteristic EEK-EEK-EEK that lets us know there’s marsh hens over yonder. Once we hear ‘em, it’s on to poling the edges of tidal flats looking for birds scurrying across the rack or hiding in the thick plumes of grass. On occasion, these birds are so wary to spread their wings and fly that you damn near have to run ‘em over before they take flight. But when they do, [continues]it’s happy hunting. And normally by twos and threes. My first trip this year was on an unseasonably cold morning for October but the tide tables showed it was gonna be mighty high. It was one of those where you think you’re runnin’ early, so you take your sweet
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time at the Teeter grabbing your snacks and coffee, but when you pull up to the launch and see the dock is higher than the pathway down, you realize the predictions were a liiiitle bit off. Luckily, we had no plans to fish that day and were loaded down with so much steel shot you woulda thought we were fighting off an army of marsh critters. And I’m glad we were. We turned a corner in the Kiawah River, away from houses and fisherman along the edges, and immediately could hear marsh hens cackling away in constant communication. The whole marsh was cackling, alive with so many birds that we had trouble agreeing on where the skiff and shotgun muzzle should be pointed next! Limits were had and marsh hen jalapeño poppers were soon sizzling on the grill. My second outing was very different. While the tide was predicted to be plenty high for hunting,
it never quite got there. We had planned to cast and blast, but between strong winds, silent birds, and a smaller tide than predicted, we ended up stowing the rods. Good thing too, since we had our work cut out for us. This tide meant fighting our way over and through the thick humps of grass in the low marsh that normally would’ve been submerged. We struggled for a handful of birds and then struggled some more to retrieve them. But, therein lies the beauty of any worthwhile endeavor, right? The cold weather, hard work, and struggle sure does make the laughs harder and the Bert’s Market biscuits that much tastier. While both hunts end in significantly different results, I’ll take them both any day of the week over staring at a computer screen or makin’ sure there’s a cover on those TPS reports. Call me a fair-weather fly fisherman, but the option to fish and/or hunt on
any given outing gives me a good reason to brave the winds instead of just leaving the skiff in the driveway. The season may be over for this year, but I’m already looking forward to this quirky little slice of Lowcountry outdoors again next fall...
Special thanks to Ben for allowing us to dirty up his normally pristine skiff (and bringing the delicious biscuits) and to Chris for being ol’ Quick Draw McGraw for the morning.
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