Rail Romp

Two birders have *startled* the birding world by flushing a Yellow Rail in record speed. The elusive Yellow Rail has long been the bane of birders, who've reported symptoms of longing and unfulfilment. The marsh marauders established a visual in 15 seconds.

Whilst driving down a rural road, they intercepted the antiquated communication signals being transmitted by the rail. As Tim stooped to remove his boots in preparation to maraud the Rail's domain, a flooded field of grass and sedge, Cormier shouted as the Rail took flight. Its black and golden back glistened in the evening sun. Its bill sparkled like dew on summer corn. Wings shined with ivory as it soared majestically 5 meters across the marsh.

Sorry, no photos.

We achieved four flushes of at least two individuals, before they were onto us and further attempts proved futile. However, it no longer mattered because we were Rail Kings.

We fashioned a rope-dragging implement (which it turned out we didn't need) but it was fun to drink all the beers necessary for its construction nonetheless

We turned our loyal autobot to the parklands of the rockies foothills, meadow after glorious meadow begging for Great Gray Owls to clear them of their vermin. It took not long. I scoped one immediately across a vast meadow. We walked over to the nearest house to ask permission to enter this sacred ground, something I realized I had never done. She was a hoarse-voiced woman of a rough countenance. Sporting a  pink  bikini top that didn't quite match up with her red and white tan pattern, she had a smoke in one hand, a glass of whisky in the other. "Don't worry, she's friendly" she called in a smoke-wearied voice as her large dog assaulted me. She said another guy owns that field, but it should't be a problem. She then went on the describe how "Revelstoke is such a s***hole"

What Revelstoke actually looks like

A razor-backed beast scratches his face with his weapon

After spotting a second Great Gray but no Hawk-owls, we called it a day, set up camp down a dirt track past someone's Texas gate, and prepared for the evening mosquito assault. I attempted to urinate and was swiftly violated by the swarm.

At dawn we cruised the roads once more to find a third Great Gray. I walked up to it until I was 1 1/4 meters from its face, then took a picture: