By Mike Lynes

Our years of advocacy on behalf of raptors at the Altamont Pass wind farm are paying off — with a dramatic reduction in bird mortality there.

Deaths of four key raptor species from Altamont wind turbines dropped by an estimated 50 percent between 2005 and 2010, according to the independent scientific review committee charged with monitoring bird mortality there.

The estimated number of Golden Eagles killed by turbines each year fell from 58 to 33, Burrowing Owls from 543 to 233, American Kestrels from 415 to 268, and Red-tailed Hawks from 196 to 85, according to a report accepted last month by the Scientific Review Committee of the Alameda County Altamont Pass Wind Resource Area (APWRA).

These figures are rough estimates: It’s exceedingly difficult to track exact numbers of bird deaths on the sprawling Altamont Pass. And while the data indicate a decline in risks to birds, we know bird injuries and deaths are likely to always result from wind turbine operations.

But the findings are still very good news. They show that with careful siting and design, it’s possible to significantly reduce the risk to birds from wind turbines.

Golden Eagle / Photo by Davor Desancic, http://www.flickr.com/photos/ddsimages/

The results also show the positive impact that Audubon activists can have in speaking up and pressuring wind companies to protect birds.

The roots of this good-news story go back more than a decade, to when we at Golden Gate Bird Alliance joined other Bay Area chapters including Santa Clara Valley, Ohlone, Marin and Mt. Diablo Audubon to advocate for birds and other wildlife at the Altamont Pass. (Other conservation groups such as the Center for Biological Diversity have also stood up for birds at Altamont.)

The oldest wind farm in the country, Altamont had about 5,000 turbines in the area bordering Alameda and Contra Costa counties. Researchers estimated that thousands of birds – some migrants, some year-round residents – were dying from collisions with wind towers and blades.

Altamont wind turbines / Photo by Elizabeth Pepin/KQED

In 2004, we and our partners sued Alameda County for reissuing wind turbine permits in the APWRA without conducting any environmental review. The settlement of our suit required a 50 percent reduction in bird mortality by 2009, removal of certain high-risk turbines, and development of a comprehensive conservation plan.

In 2010, when it became clear that the 50 percent reduction had not been reached, we pursued further negotiations with NextEra Inc.,…

This is the third in a series of occasional reviews of Bay Area birding locations. Do you have a favorite site you’d like to share? Email id*****@********************ce.org. 

By Chris Carmichael and Phila Rogers

Strawberry Canyon has it all – a vigorous year-round stream, lush riparian vegetation that  follows the stream, and surrounding hillsides with native coastal chaparral and open grasslands.

The U.C. Botanical Garden, located on 36 acres at the upper end of the canyon, features not only the stream and the riparian habitat but extensive collections of plants from around the world.

The Garden, with its shady glens and open hillsides, has attracted birders almost from the time it moved up into the Canyon in 1923 from its original home at the west end of the Berkeley Campus. Its publication, “Birds of the UC Botanical Garden,” lists 100 species, many of which are year-round residents.  Others are seasonal residents, and some are casual visitors.

U.C. Botanical Garden entrance / Photo by Paul Licht

Every season offers its pleasures.  In the winter, the garden is full of wintering sparrows along with Hermit Thrushes, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and gaudy Red-breasted Sapsuckers.  Most winters, Varied Thrushes can be heard and sometimes seen in the denser areas of the Garden.

Black-headed Grosbeak in South African area of the UC Botanical Garden / Photo by Melanie Hofmann

In the spring, the canyon and the garden resound with glorious songs from breeding singers like Black-headed Grosbeaks, Warbling Vireos, and the Pacific Wren.  Partial songs of Fox Sparrows and Hermit Thrushes can be heard briefly before they leave for their summer haunts.

For at least the last decade, the Garden has had its own Red-tailed Hawk – an unusual partial leucistic bird with a white mantel and a pale breast.  Seen year-round, it is easily identifiable as a distinct individual.  Most years, it is paired with a normal colored morph.

Along with welcoming a steady stream of birding visitors, many with cameras in addition to binoculars, the Garden offers quarterly Saturday morning walks co-led by Chris Carmichael, associate director of horticulture and collections, himself an avid birder.  Golden Gate Bird Alliance member Phila Rogers was asked to step in as a co-leader when expert birder Denis Wolff moved to Oregon.

Even if birding is slow, Chris, with his deep knowledge of plants, has wonderful stories to tell, rich with examples of how the local native birds have adapted to exotic plants.…

By Carol and Steve Lombardi

If you’ve only seen Nome as the snow-covered finish line for the Iditarod, well — as Madeline Kahn sang, “You’d be surprised…”

At about 9 p.m. on a June evening, we stepped down from our third aircraft of the day into the pleasantly brisk Nome twilight. Green grass bordered the airfield, interrupted by small patches of snow. A short drive around the city and harbor started our trip list with Red-Throated Loon, Red-Necked Grebe, Long-Tailed Jaeger, Slaty-Backed Gull, Common Redpoll, Red-Necked Phalarope, and — in someone’s backyard — a few musk oxen. Our modest motel was located at the Iditarod finish line on the shore of the Norton Sound, which was smooth as glass.

We were in Nome on a birding trip sponsored by Golden Gate Bird Alliance. Our guide, Rich Cimino of Yellowbilled Tours, uses the extended daylight of “the land of the midnight sun” to provide an intense three-day birding experience. The birds are active both day and “night,” and so were we. We saw about 90 species and got 15 life birds.

Willow Ptarmigan / Photo by Rich Cimino

For a couple of Bay Area birders like ourselves who are used to seeing shorebirds on the shore, it seemed odd to see shorebirds nesting well inland in shrubs (Western Sandpiper) or on an airstrip (Ruddy Turnstone).

Nome is a frontier town built to survive the winter: It’s a mere 100 miles south of the Arctic Circle. Structures have few windows — they’re inefficient in the cold — and the tallest building is the new four-story hospital.

Because you must fly or barge everything in or out of Nome (there are no roads connecting to the outside world), the environmentalist comment that you never really throw anything away is vividly illustrated here. Industrial trash — trucks, buildings, machinery — stays where it stopped. And with a year-round population of only 3,700, it’s not hard to get out into nature. The “suburbs” are a 15-minute drive from the main street of the town.

View of Nome, the Norton Sound and musk oxen in the foreground / Photo by Steve Lombardi Nome and area / Courtesy of Alaska Dept. of Fish & Game

On Day 1 we drove southeast along Council Road in a warm, comfy pickup. The drive started along the beach and lagoons—finding Brant and Cackling Goose, Common Eider and Harlequin Duck, Lapland Longspur, Black-Legged Kittiwakes, Arctic Tern, Red-Throated Loon, and Yellow Wagtail.…

By Lisa Owens Viani

My owl obsession began when I moved to Berkeley in 2003. One evening while on an evening walk with a friend, she pointed out what she thought was the sound of someone breathing with the help of a respirator in a house on Edwards Street. That didn’t seem quite right — I instantly thought “bird” — but I wasn’t expecting to hear owls in such an urban spot.

I called a birder friend who suggested the possibility of a Barn Owl. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, we confirmed that the sound was coming from a Canary Island palm tree behind the house with the “respirator.” Then we spotted Barn Owls flying in and out of the tree, pearl white in the dark sky, backlit by the moon, making trip after trip to feed their young.

Barn Owl / Photo by Ashok Khosla – www.seeingbirds.com

But not everyone was as enamored with the owls — or their sounds — as I was, and the tree was cut down. I decided to found Keep Barn Owls in Berkeley, with the help of naturalist Joe Eaton and some other owl fans, to create more awareness about the incredible natural pest control services of these owls: One family can consume 600 mice in 10 weeks.

I connected with The Hungry Owl Project in Marin and local owl experts like Golden Gate Bird Alliance field trip leader Dave Quady, and began to get a grasp on the number of Barn Owls this city supports. I learned of about a dozen pairs nesting in Berkeley alone that year, most in Canary Island palm trees, many of which stand next to Victorians and thus were probably planted in the early 1900s. (I also learned about nests in El Cerrito, Albany, and Richmond, again most of them in Canary Island palms.)

In what may be the least controversial Berkeley city council resolution ever passed, we got the Barn Owl designated as the city’s official bird.

Berkeley’s Barn Owls have been here a long time. In a 1927 account in The Condor, UC Berkeley zoologist E. Raymond Hall wrote about the Barn Owls he discovered roosting in the tower of the First Presbyterian Church at Dana and Channing Way. Hall gained entrance to the tower and dissected the owls’ pellets. The most common prey remains were California meadow mice, pocket gophers, white-footed mice, and house mice.…

By Ilana DeBare

Last week saw one of the first big herring runs of the season in San Francisco Bay.

What’s a herring run? It’s a moment when the tides, weather and salinity are just right for herring to spawn in the bay – thousands upon thousands of them.

Which then draws thousands upon thousands of gulls and other birds.

Which then draws – well, maybe not thousands, but dozens of birders and fishermen.

Last week’s herring run took place over two to three days on the southern waterfront of San Francisco, near Mission Bay. Golden Gate Bird Alliance Volunteer Director Noreen Weeden was there and took these photos that give you a sense of the scale:

Gulls at herring run / Photo by Noreen Weeden Herring run / Photo by Noreen Weeden

The herring lay their roe on eelgrass and other plants in shallow Bay waters. Then as the tide recedes, gulls descend and feast on the roe. The eggs that survive become the next generation of herring.

Together with Eddie Bartley, Noreen counted some 1,500 gulls during her two hours there:  350 Mew Gulls, 300 Western Gulls, 250 California Gulls, 80 Herring Gulls, 7 Thayer’s Gulls, 120 Glaucous-winged Gulls, 5 hybrid Western x Glaucous-winged Gulls, and 2 hybrid Herring x Glaucous-winged Gulls.

It’s great to see this kind of a feeding frenzy, not just from a birding point of view but a conservation point of view.

California’s herring population crashed in the early 1990s, due to a combination of over-fishing and challenging weather conditions.

“There had been a Gold Rush in the mid-70s when the state Department of Fish and Wildlife and fishermen were really irresponsible and caught 30 percent of the herring biomass,” said Anna Weinstein, seabird program manager for Audubon California. “By the early 90s, the numbers were down to almost zero and DFW had to close the fishery for a year.”

Now, thanks to better management (including a catch limit of about 5 percent of biomass) and weather, the herring population has largely recovered — allowing big runs like the one last week.

But there are still challenges. For reasons that aren’t entirely clear, there are hardly any older herring left. The schools are made up of young fish that are less robust and lay fewer eggs.

And the rules managing the fishery remain worrisomely weak. “It would be easy for DFW to raise the (catch) quota if prices rise and they come under pressure from fishermen,” Weinstein said.…