All hail the King (rail) of Bayonne!

Wow, was all I could say. I went to Bayonne to find a new species for my New Jersey birding list, and I was astounded by what else I found.

The New Jersey birding community has been abuzz with the sighting of a King rail near the Hudson River Waterfront Walkway, a natural oasis of sorts nestled among the city's shipping terminals and oil tanks. Finding rare avian visitors in industrialized areas is no real shock for local birders - as we've found often in Hudson County, pockets of nature thrive where some would assume it to be impossible, and water quality has improved enough to host wildlife. I wasn't quite sure what I'd find there, but I was prepared for just about anything. Maps of the area showed a good-sized green area labeled "Bayonne Golf Club" on a tract of land jutting into upper New York Bay. Rather than looking into it before my trip, I just headed out, road directions in hand.

As for the King rail, it's a rarer visitor to New Jersey's marshes than the species usually seen here, the Clapper rail. Well, it's usually more "hearing" than "seeing": secretive by nature, rails generally live among the reeds and grasses of wetlands, frustrating birders by their clapping calls. (Needless to say, rails are masters at the game of Marco Polo.)  If you're going to see them at all, it's likely to be at low tide as they come out to feed on crustaceans and insects. Clappers tend toward saltwater marshes, while Kings are freshwater birds, with the two species sometimes sharing space (and cross mating) in brackish marshes. Bayonne, located on the bay where Hudson River and Atlantic Ocean waters meet and mix, is apparently geographically desirable for Kings and Clappers.

After a wrong turn that landed me in Bayonne's Marine Ocean Terminal, I found parking for the Walkway in a strip mall lot. I was barely out of my car when I saw a binocular-wearing couple coming off the path. "Here for the rail?" one asked. Just down the path a bit, alongside the long bridge, he told me, adding that other birders were still there. The usual rule was in force: when in doubt where to find a chase bird, look for the crowd.

The walkway winds along the northern edge of what's traditionally known as Constable Hook, with an inlet on one side and a reclaimed landfill on the other. This, as I discovered, was no typical capped landfill, but more on that in a moment. The wild grasses and flowers on the undulating slope put me in the mind of Scotland or Ireland, and the goldfinches perching on the thistles had to agree that someone had done a good job of making a nice habitat. I noticed a few egrets in the inlet to my left, patiently waiting for an early lunch to swim by.

The farther I walked along, the more the pieces came together. The "Bayonne Golf Club" I'd seen on the map isn't a city owned course; it's an all-out exclusive country club, modeled after the traditional links courses in Scotland. At the crest of the hill was a large, expensive-looking clubhouse with a huge American flag flying beside it. According to designer Eric Bergstol, as quoted on Golf.com, the economics of converting the landfill and doing the necessary wetlands mitigation blew the concept of a low-cost public links course out of the water, so it appears he hit for the fences. Bulldozer-sculpted hills and dales are lined by grasses, shrubs and flowers recommended by a Rutgers agronomist, all within the backdrop of Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty and the container cranes of the port. As part of the deal, the developers were required to provide public access to the waterfront, hence the walkway.

The King rail had found a home in a most regal environment.

Fortunately, if a rule of finding chase birds is to find the crowd, the next rule is to look wherever you see someone aiming their optics. As I crossed the bridge on the walkway, I encountered a man with a viewing scope aimed between the railing and support struts. Maybe he had the rail? I walked up slowly, figuring not to scare it if it was there. It wasn't, but the consolation was a very cooperative Yellow-crowned night heron, plus more specific guidance on the rail's whereabouts. It wasn't much farther - maybe 100 feet.

Two birders were on the site as I arrived, waiting for the secretive rail to emerge from the grass to forage on the small patch of mud to the side of the bridge. A little farther down, where a wider mudflat held a stream, they'd seen a rail chick who was a bit less shy, and in the distance they'd noticed a Clapper rail.

Yup, that's the King rail, right in the middle.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to differentiate a King rail chick from a Clapper rail chick, I decided to wait the adult King out by the mud patch. A moment or two later, I noticed some movement in the grass, just behind the first layer of reedy grass. Looking closer, I was pretty sure it was the King (overall, they're a rustier shade than their cousins), but it was tough to tell because he was preening. I wasn't going to let that be the sum of my first-ever look at his species, so I sat down to wait, staring at that patch of grass as the occasional golf cart whirred past behind me.

It may sound crazy, but in situations like that, I like to send a mental message to the bird, letting him know it's safe and I just want to admire him. Sometimes it works; other times it rises to levels of frustration that nearly lead me to a Sheldon Cooper-type tantrum.

Are we in golf heaven? No, Bayonne.

This time it worked. Like an actor coming onstage, the rail emerged from the curtain of grass to walk to an open area where I could see him completely. Stopping, he posed with his wings raised above his back, as if to air them. Then, like a model, he walked a few more steps and turned, allowing me to see the rest of him as I committed him to memory.

Just as I was thanking the bird for being so cooperative, a golf cart stopped behind me and the King ducked back into the grass. Two course employees were wondering why so many binocular-toting people had been standing around the bridge for the past few days. Pulling out my Sibley guide to show them, I explained the significance of the rail and complimented them on the golf club's work to create a good environment for birds. It didn't occur to me until now that the rail was as much of a VIP (or VIB) as any of the club's members, and he didn't require use of the club's exclusive boat or helicopter to get to the links.

Breaking the Color Barrier at Shady Rest

There seems to be something about Union County and historic golf courses.

First, there was the Oak Ridge Golf Course in Clark, whose grounds and clubhouse witnessed portions of the Battle of the Short Hills during the Revolution.

And recently I discovered the Shady Rest Golf and Country Club, now operating as the Scotch Hills Golf Course in Scotch Plains. While portions of its clubhouse date back to the 1700s, it's notable for two distinctions far more recent: its status as the nation's first African-American owned and operated country club, and as the home course of John Shippen, the first African American golfer to play in the U.S. Open.

Originally owned by Ephraim Tucker and later the site of George Osborn's Tavern, the house and surrounding 31 acres of rolling fields were purchased by the Westfield Golf Club in 1897. The organization converted the farmland to a nine-hole golf course and renovated the farmhouse/tavern into a clubhouse, opening the club in 1900. While the course was popular with its members, the surrounding neighborhood was equally as attractive to the growing African American community that settled there, reducing the acreage available when the club wanted to expand its course to 18 holes. Rather than getting into land disputes with its neighbors, the WGC chose to merge with its Cranford counterpart in 1921, relocating both organizations to the current site of the Echo Lake Country Club.

Seeing an opportunity to organize a country club for the regional African American community, the Progressive Realty Company stepped in and bought the property. What resulted was Shady Rest, marketed as a place "where respectable men and women can come and enjoy the real and outdoor life, and indulge in wholesome, healthful sports, as Golf, Tennis, Croquet, Horseback Riding and Shooting.”

It didn't take long before the club attracted the cream of both the athletic and artistic worlds. Well before she broke the Grand Slam racial barrier with her win at the French Open, Althea Gibson won the club's mixed doubles championship with her coach Sydney Llewellen. The club also became well known for its entertainment, drawing jazz legends including Duke Ellington, Sarah Vaughn, Count Basie and Ella Fitzgerald, who enthralled club members while others enjoyed the music from outside Shady Rest's gates.

Perhaps most notable, however, is its association with John Shippen, the first American-born competitor in the U.S. Open. A 16 year old self-taught golfer, he'd broken the sport's unspoken color line in 1896 when he played in the Open at the course where he caddied, Long Island's Shinnecock Hills. Later playing in four other Opens, Shippen was nonetheless denied membership in the Professional Golfers Association due to its exclusionary policies. Their loss, however, was Shady Rest's gain; he served as the club's pro from 1931 until 1960. (More information on Shippen's life and achievements is available on an informative website maintained by a foundation organized in his name.)

Like many other organizations, Shady Rest experienced financial strains during the Great Depression, and the town of Scotch Plains acquired the property through a tax lien. Assuming operation of the club in 1964, the town converted it to a public course, which it remains today. To the eyes of this very novice duffer, the rolling hills of Shady Rest appear to be a nice challenge for an afternoon on the links, and the greens fees are more than reasonable, even for non-residents. There's even a very attractive miniature golf range for those who would rather limit their frustrations to a minimum.

If recent events are any indication, the people of Scotch Plains know the treasure they have in Shady Rest. Listed among the state's 10 most endangered historic sites by Preservation New Jersey in 2008, the course and clubhouse were recently granted nearly $140,000 by the township council to finance repairs. While the old farmhouse is unrecognizable beneath the renovations and additions made since Tucker and Osborn owned it, it's well worth preserving for what it represents: the social and recreational pursuits of the black middle class in New Jersey.