Bird-A-Thon 2019

While Jack has already published his account of our staff’s October 14th Bird-A-Thon to support Point Blue Conservation Science, I would like to share my own impressions of the day to further encourage exploration of local hotspots. After all, we need to appreciate—and, by extension, protect—our wild spaces more than ever as bird populations plunge due to habitat loss and climate change.

The morning of the Bird-A-Thon dawned bright and…foggy. So foggy that we had to rely on sound and silhouette to identify the species at our first stop: Bahia Lagoon. As we made our way around the wetlands, we heard the squeaky rattle of a belted kingfisher, glimpsed a common yellowthroat flitting through the marshside fennel, and peered at an indistinct figure until it resolved into the ovoid head, chunky beak, and S-shaped neck of a pied-billed grebe. Only a few wading birds, most notably a trio of red-eyed, hunchbacked night herons, provided easy viewing. No matter. Fog may reduce visibility, but if anything it enhances the splendor of the natural world. Toward the end of our circuit of the lagoon, a female northern harrier dropped out of the mist like a brown ghost and sailed off across the water.

After a brief visit to the Bahia Drive trailhead of Rush Creek Open Space Preserve, where we encountered a raucous party of acorn woodpeckers and looked out on the tidal wetlands, we relocated to the main, west-side entrance of this popular preserve. Before we had even set up our scopes, a red-tailed hawk winged past us with a pair of angry crows in hot pursuit. It was a good omen. The mudflats off Binford Road teemed with stilts, plovers, yellowlegs, and the odd killdeer. Farther out, white pelicans bobbed in the water like moored battleships and a fleet of ducks ranging from gadwalls to northern shovelers foraged for aquatic plants.

Our luck continued at Olompali State Historic Park. The deeper we hiked into the woods, the harder it became to find birds. But we had a secret weapon: our colleague Don’s trademark great-horned owl cry. The noise carried through the bay trees and within seconds a rabble of rakishly handsome if shrill-voiced Steller’s jays hopped through the canopy to inspect us. (They decided we earthbound creatures posed no threat in short order.) Later, we spied a fox sparrow, dapper in a rust-and-soot blazer with mottled lapels, in the branches of a downed oak and watched Townsend’s warblers, the jewels of winter bird-watching, tumble through the foliage above a sylvan pool.

We next decamped to San Rafael to spend several hours at Loch Lomond Marina and the Las Gallinas Ponds. By the time we arrived at the Marina, the fog had dissipated. Two double-crested cormorants sunned themselves on a nearby dock, their heads thrown back and their wings outstretched in an attitude of almost hedonistic relaxation. Unfortunately, the majority of the birds had retired in the heat of the day, although we managed to observe least sandpipers, black turnstones, and black oystercatchers at close range.

We were more fortunate at Las Gallinas, a location that caters to a variety of species thanks to its unique blend of fields and ponds. Our sightings ran the gamut from grassland specialists like the brown-headed cowbird to eye-catching ducks such as the glossy umber cinnamon teal and the green-masked, white-capped American wigeon. We even tracked a common gallinule, a member of the rail family with a crimson facial shield and outsized, long-toed feet, to its hideaway in a stand of reeds.

The final stop on our birding tour, Pacheco Pond in Bel Marin Keys, brought us back to Novato. We headed down the trail adjacent to the water a few species shy of 100. Determined to attain or exceed this nice, round number, we paused to scope every profusion of cattails or bulrushes. Our patience paid off when we glassed a Wilson’s snipe so well-concealed that only the contrast between its tawny eyebrow and darkly streaked crown differentiated it from its surroundings. A red-breasted nuthatch was more cooperative, zigzagging up the trunk of an ornamental cypress with its striped cowl and slate-colored upperparts on display. We reached our species count goal soon after, but the hoot of a great-horned owl, a real great-horned owl, drew us toward a distant thicket.

The owl, perched in a coast live oak, seemed to be waiting for the day to end, and as it waited, its beauty increased. Its pupils dilated, expanding in its amber eyes like drops of ink, and the fading light ruddled its pale bib. As the sun set, we bid the owl a visual goodbye through our binoculars and returned to our cars satisfied with the fruits of our bird-watching labor.

We concluded our Bird-A-Thon with pizza, beer, and bad jokes. (Don, under the influence of a blindingly pink cocktail dubbed a “roserita,” provided the bulk of the entertainment.) It was a cheerful epilogue to a tiring yet rewarding venture. However, our good humor disguised more substantial feelings of gratitude for the abundance of birds we had seen over the past ten hours and fear that in the future our planet will not sustain life on the same grand scale. Love for wild things and wild spaces is not enough to combat the problems we face today. It must be combined with action and education. But love is always the right place to start, and I know it flows strong in the hearts of our WBU team and our many friends in the birding community.

The List: 105 Species