By Dave Quady
Like many other birders, I always look forward to the July issue of The Auk, the journal of the American Ornithologists’ Union (AOU). Why? Because it contains the annual supplement to the AOU’s bird checklist, which governs the taxonomy followed by North American birders.
The run-up to publication usually includes speculation about changes the supplement will bring: will they be minor (“Oh, a few species lost the hyphens in their names”), or taxonomy-rattling (“What? Falcons were put behind the woodpeckers?”). Rumors precede publication, of course, so the supplement’s content is rarely a surprise. But no change is official until it’s published.
This year’s supplement affected the family Rallidae – the rails, marsh-loving birds that some people are said to be thinner than. Clapper Rail Rallus longirostris, a bird of mainly coastal marshes, was split into three species, and King Rail Rallus elegans of the eastern U.S. was split into two.
California’s three subspecies of Rallus longirostris become subspecies of Rallus obsoletus, which is given the English name Ridgway’s Rail. It has three resident subspecies: yumanensis (in the lower Colorado River area), levipes (in coastal southern California), and nominate obsoletus, (in coastal marshes of the San Francisco Bay area).
The levipes subspecies of Ridgway’s (formerly Clapper) Rail / Photo by US FWS
The yuma subspecies of Ridgway’s (formerly Clapper) Rail / Photo by US FWS
The obsoletus subspecies of Ridgway’s Rail (formerly California Clapper Rail) / Photo by Bob Lewis
All three subspecies are on the Federal endangered species list; two are also on the state endangered species list (SE) while the third is state threatened (ST). The split will not change their conservation status, but authorities will probably come up with new English names for the subspecies.
Subspecies yumanensis (ST) was called “Yuma Clapper Rail.” Modifying it to “Yuma Ridgway’s Rail” seems awkward, but could work. Something similar could be done with levipes (SE), formerly called “Light-footed Clapper Rail.” But how about our local obsoletus, formerly called “California Clapper Rail?” One wouldn’t want to call it “California Ridgway (formerly Clapper) Rail,” for sure, and “Ridgway’s California Rail” isn’t much better. A good English name doesn’t immediately come to mind.
In the aftermath of the Clapper Rail split, that English name was transferred to a species with another scientific name. Thus, Clapper Rail is now the English name for Rallus crepitans, and birders who have seen it in east coast saltwater marshes got a new life bird as they read the news – assuming they’d already recorded what’s now called Ridgway’s Rail.…

By John Tysell
I met our guide, Harry Fuller, in Ashland, Oregon where he lives. I had done a previous Golden Gate Bird Alliance trip with him in 2013 in the Cascade and Siskiyou Mountains of southern Oregon. It had been a great birding experience, so I was looking forward to spending the next three days with him on his June 2014 trip to Malheur National Wildlife Refuge. 
Susan and Maureen, also GGBA members, joined us early on Wednesday morning and our car caravan headed east down Dead Indian Road. Malheur — a high desert basin in southeastern Oregon with an average elevation of 4,000 feet — is a birding hotspot. The snowpack on the Steens Mountains delivers ample water for wetlands, streams, meadows and grasslands. The varied habitat provides shelter and abundant food, especially insects. Since it is a perfect setting for breeding, I was hoping to see young at this time of the year.
As we climbed up the foothills, the trees became fir and pine. We stopped for a Lazuli Bunting and a Mountain Bluebird along the way. Near Howard Prairie Lake, we saw Sandhill Cranes in a meadow with young. A must stop was Rocky Point on the Eastern shore of Upper Klamath Lake. The highlight was a pair of Red-breasted Sapsuckers flying in and out of their cavity nest feeding babies.
Adult and juvenile Sandhill Cranes by John Tysell
Red-breasted Sapsucker after feeding nestling by John Tysell
Close to Fort Klamath along the Sun River, we stopped to see Ospreys with fledglings in the nest. A Bald-headed Eagle soared in the distance. At Collin’s Rest Stop, I saw my first American Dipper, one of fourteen new species I would add to my life list. Then the highlight of the day: Red Crossbills.
After leaving the town of Silver Lake, we passed a large dark-brown bird on a post. The walkie-talkie crackled. Susan observed that it was too large to be a hawk, so the caravan turned around to find a Golden Eagle. Further East in Christmas Valley, we saw Ferruginous Hawks, a Long-billed Curlew and Wilson’s Phalarope.
Late in the afternoon, we finally arrived at the Malheur Field Station on Sodhouse Road near New Princeton, Oregon. It is isolated and filled with wildlife. Our dorm was old and worn but clean. Despite the drought, the faucet leaked freely. On our way to the cafeteria, Common Nighthawks were seen sitting on the railings.…

By Jack Dumbacher
In recent months, I’ve seen and heard many Band-tailed Pigeons around my house in Marin. Their burst of slapping wing beats can surprise me if I flush them from a low perch, or I might hear their resounding call drifting down from a perch high in the redwoods. I always appreciate hearing or seeing them, as their populations overall have been in decline for many years.
These pigeons have posed a conservation puzzle. Although their populations have been declining at a rate of about 2.8-3.0 percent range-wide for multiple decades, no one has known the reason why [1]. Just to put that into perspective, a 2.8 percent decline will reduce a population to under one quarter of its original size in 50 years time. And Band-tailed populations are already much lower than historical numbers, although no reliable data exists to say just how much.
In 1913, U.C. Berkeley’s own Joseph Grinnell wrote an article for The Cooper Ornithological Society’s journal, the Condor, about the bleak future of the Band-tailed Pigeon as a game bird in the western United States [2]. In fact, the Band-tailed Pigeon offers striking parallels with the Passenger Pigeon. They lay a single egg, they follow boom-and-bust cycles of acorns and other fruits, there are certain times of year – mostly winter – when they congregate in large numbers, and it is difficult to predict exactly where the larger winter flocks will reside.
Band-tailed Pigeon in Sonoma County by Ingrid Taylar
In the winter of 1911-1912, the birds were so common in San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara that hunters arrived by trainloads and hunted the birds, Passenger Pigeon style. The concern of W. Lee Chambers [3], Grinnell, and others led to a ban on hunting that lasted until the early 1930s.
As the numbers began to rebound, farmers complained of crop damage and continued to hunt them. Especially in winter, flocks would appear large and destructive in California, mostly because the bulk of the western races (Patagioenas fasciata monilis) would gather and overwinter here. However, there was little evidence that they actually damaged crops during these months [1]. Band-tailed Pigeons are still legal to hunt in California, but limits are low and this is not believed to have a negative impact on their population.
We now know why the Band-tailed Pigeon’s biology resembles the Passenger Pigeon’s: They turn out to be each other’s closest genetic relatives.…

Golden Gate Bird Alliance is part of the Bay Area Osprey Coalition, a new group working to protect and educate the public about the growing number of Ospreys nesting along San Francisco Bay. We co-sponsored the second annual SF Bay Osprey Festival in June at Mare Island (Vallejo), and are working to encourage bayside property owners to install nesting platforms. The San Jose Mercury/Contra Costa Times ran an excellent story this week on the spread of nesting Ospreys to the Bay. We’re reprinting some excerpts below (including a quote from GGBA Executive Director Cindy Margulis), but you can read the entire story on the San Jose Mercury web site.

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By Denis Cuff, Contra Costa Times

RICHMOND — The osprey, a fierce and powerful fishing bird, used to be just another San Francisco Bay shoreline visitor, flying over and feeding without setting down roots.

These days, however, the acrobatic divers are becoming natives, constructing elaborate stick nests on cranes, poles or other man-made structures. Ospreys nested in 21 places around the bay shorelines this year and 17 last year, up sharply from a single active nest in the early 1990s. Most of the new nests are in the East and North Bay.
Osprey pair at Chevron nesting platform in Richmond / Photo by Tony Brake
Osprey in Richmond with prey / Photo by Elaine Miller Bond, www.elainemillerbond.com
Before that, ospreys steered clear of the bay, preferring to nest in areas far north of the Bay Area, or inland, especially near lakes. Scientists aren’t sure why the raptors have made the move. They speculate it may have something to do with changes in bay water quality, clarity and abundance of fish. Or it may have something to do with bald eagles — another species on the upswing — crowding ospreys out of their prime nest spots near lakes in the North Bay. “We don’t have all the answers, but the nesting territory is a significant change that has occurred in a relatively short period of time,” said Tony Brake, a volunteer bird monitor with the Golden Gate Raptor Observatory.

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Although osprey populations were once threatened because of DDT contamination, the birds now prosper in many areas, living on every continent except Antarctica. They migrate through or winter in the Bay Area, and they have nested in the past around Lexington Reservoir near Los Gatos and Kent Lake in western Marin County.…