Houseboat birding in Sausalito

By Matthew Perry

Betsey and I arrive home to our houseboat from a birding trip to Point Reyes and see a large bird flying high above the dock.  Is it a gull?  No, too dark.  Is it a Turkey Vulture?  No, not flying right.  Is it — yes, it’s an Osprey!  Is it carrying a fish?  Not this time…

I notice the cats perk up at something outside.  I follow their gaze and see a Snowy Egret perched on our neighbor’s deck, watching as kayakers paddle by.  He stays there for quite a while, putting on a fashion show as I snap pictures.

What was that shadow that just passed over the skylight?  Quick, look out the back.  I don’t see anything—oh, wait, there it is: a Great Blue Heron stopped for a breather on our neighbor’s roof.

I am at my desk near the back door and see a Belted Kingfisher perched on a light pole.  It stares into the shallows, adjusts its position, turns its head this way and that to get a better look, and dives.  Splash!  Out of the water it comes with a crab, onto a post, then toss-toss-adjust-gulp!  Down goes the crab, up goes the kingfisher back to the light pole, and around goes the process one more time.  This is our “back yard.”

My partner Betsey Finn and I live on a houseboat in Sausalito, California, which means we see a different set of backyard birds than most people.  Our daily or weekly water-oriented regulars are Great Blue and Night Herons, Great and Snowy Egrets, Mallards, Canada Geese, and various gulls.  A few landlubbers join us every day, too—mainly Turkey Vultures, crows and ravens, House Finches, and hummingbirds.

Some seasonally abundant favorites include Killdeer, coots, cormorants, several grebes, Buffleheads and other ducks, pelicans, terns, kingfishers, stilts, yellowlegs, Willets, sandpipers, and more.  The occasional Osprey or loon stops in for a few minutes every now and then.

Sometimes Betsey and I miss the standard feeder fare (it would be nice to have some resident chickadees and goldfinches!), but we’ll never complain about the amazing avian pageant that plays out around our house all year long.

One of the coolest things about houseboat life is the rhythm of the tide.  Our house moves up and down twice a day, sometimes as much as six or seven feet, and with it, different birds come and go.  Ducks like to preen on the rocks, which the crows turn over looking for yummy morsels.  Yellowlegs tromp around in the mud, while Spotted Sandpipers know just the right moment when they can tightrope walk along the cords that keep the houseboats from floating away.

Buffleheads, coots, and grebes like the water higher, as do the Canada Geese.  Occasionally the tides get so high (“king” tides) that we’re more likely to see news teams filming kayakers navigating through the parking lot than any of our usual feathered friends.

When I met Betsey two and a half years ago, she was living on a nearby dock with her sister.  After only a few visits to their houseboat, I knew this was the life for me.  We would watch as Snowy Egrets played out a highly entertaining mating ritual right in front of us or as the local ducklings and goslings simultaneously dwindled in number and increased in size.

Two years ago this month Betsey and I moved into a house on a different dock, and the experience has surpassed my expectations — in many ways, but especially from a birder’s perspective.  In fact, houseboat birding inspired us to do our own “big year” this year, seeing as many California birds as we can. (We’re up to 205 species with four months left.)  After all, there are days in winter when we can see forty species just by looking out our windows and taking a twenty-minute walk down the nearby bicycle path.

Summer is a relatively slow time for birding on the docks, but I’ll keep you posted as the birdlife starts heating up with fall migration.  In the meantime, enjoy your summer birding!

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Matthew Perry has been a houseboat birder for two years and a Bay Area resident for six.  He developed a passion for Bay Area birding by volunteering as a hawk-watcher for the Golden Gate Raptor Observatory.  Before that he was an avid backyard bird-watcher in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  He is currently writing a book about his and Betsey Finn’s big year called “Fledge Year: Lessons from our leap into serious birding.”  In his spare time, he earns a living as a tutor, teacher, negotiator, and game designer.  Their cats are full-time indoor cats.