By Anne Hoff

Sitting on a plastic mat on a pebble beach, the wind blowing at 30 miles per hour from the north, I join a line of thirty warmly bundled birders watching the wild Bering Sea. A slight windbreak is provided by the line of all-terrain vehicles along the flat ridge of the beach behind us. Though the temp is 40 Fahrenheit, it’s cold!

Thus begins a birding day at the Siberian Yupik village of Gambell on the Northwest Cape of treeless St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. The population of 680 native residents swells for a few weeks from mid-May to June and from mid-August to October each year by up to 50 non-islanders who seek a view of birds found nowhere else in North America, as well as surprise Asian vagrants that draw big-list birders.

Part of the Bering Land Bridge during the last Ice Age, St. Lawrence Island is about 20 miles by 100 miles. It now lies 45 miles off the coast of the Chukotsk Peninsula of Siberia and 195 miles WNW of Nome. (You truly can see Russia while doing a sea watch!)

I travelled there as part of a ten-person, 11-day tour with Wilderness Birding Adventures. We flew to Nome and then transferred to a 12-seat plane for the flight to Gambell. Luckily, all of our food — omitted from our flight due to weight limitations — arrived on the next flight.

When the tiny plane door opened, tour guide Aaron Lang looked in and said, “Are you Anne?” It turns out that I was the only newbie to this company and one of only two new to the island. Aaron knew everyone else on the tour and most of them knew several others. I discovered that Gambell birding etiquette required that everyone who wanted to see a bird sighted by anyone in any group on the island be summoned by radio while the finder “sat on” the bird and held off photographers who risked flushing the bird while others raced to the site. This fits the definition of “chasing birds.”

Aaron’s first announcement was, “There’s a Gray-tailed Tattler just reported from along the lake just down the airstrip, so instead of going to the house first, we’ll head down to find it.” We left our luggage on the tarmac (no terminal) and climbed aboard the “birder’s bus”, a two-wheeled open-air cart holding six passengers pulled behind an ATV (also known as “four-wheeler”).…

By Anne Hoff

Sitting on a plastic mat on a pebble beach, the wind blowing at 30 miles per hour from the north, I join a line of thirty warmly bundled birders watching the wild Bering Sea. A slight windbreak is provided by the line of all-terrain vehicles along the flat ridge of the beach behind us. Though the temp is 40 Fahrenheit, it’s cold!

Thus begins a birding day at the Siberian Yupik village of Gambell on the Northwest Cape of treeless St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. The population of 680 native residents swells for a few weeks from mid-May to June and from mid-August to October each year by up to 50 non-islanders who seek a view of birds found nowhere else in North America, as well as surprise Asian vagrants that draw big-list birders.

Part of the Bering Land Bridge during the last Ice Age, St. Lawrence Island is about 20 miles by 100 miles. It now lies 45 miles off the coast of the Chukotsk Peninsula of Siberia and 195 miles WNW of Nome. (You truly can see Russia while doing a sea watch!)

I travelled there as part of a ten-person, 11-day tour with Wilderness Birding Adventures. We flew to Nome and then transferred to a 12-seat plane for the flight to Gambell. Luckily, all of our food — omitted from our flight due to weight limitations — arrived on the next flight.

When the tiny plane door opened, tour guide Aaron Lang looked in and said, “Are you Anne?” It turns out that I was the only newbie to this company and one of only two new to the island. Aaron knew everyone else on the tour and most of them knew several others. I discovered that Gambell birding etiquette required that everyone who wanted to see a bird sighted by anyone in any group on the island be summoned by radio while the finder “sat on” the bird and held off photographers who risked flushing the bird while others raced to the site. This fits the definition of “chasing birds.”

Aaron’s first announcement was, “There’s a Gray-tailed Tattler just reported from along the lake just down the airstrip, so instead of going to the house first, we’ll head down to find it.” We left our luggage on the tarmac (no terminal) and climbed aboard the “birder’s bus”, a two-wheeled open-air cart holding six passengers pulled behind an ATV (also known as “four-wheeler”).…

By Anne Hoff
Sitting on a plastic mat on a pebble beach, the wind blowing at 30 miles per hour from the north, I join a line of thirty warmly bundled birders watching the wild Bering Sea. A slight windbreak is provided by the line of all-terrain vehicles along the flat ridge of the beach behind us. Though the temp is 40 Fahrenheit, it’s cold!
Thus begins a birding day at the Siberian Yupik village of Gambell on the Northwest Cape of treeless St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. The population of 680 native residents swells for a few weeks from mid-May to June and from mid-August to October each year by up to 50 non-islanders who seek a view of birds found nowhere else in North America, as well as surprise Asian vagrants that draw big-list birders.
Part of the Bering Land Bridge during the last Ice Age, St. Lawrence Island is about 20 miles by 100 miles. It now lies 45 miles off the coast of the Chukotsk Peninsula of Siberia and 195 miles WNW of Nome. (You truly can see Russia while doing a sea watch!)
I travelled there as part of a ten-person, 11-day tour with Wilderness Birding Adventures. We flew to Nome and then transferred to a 12-seat plane for the flight to Gambell. Luckily, all of our food — omitted from our flight due to weight limitations — arrived on the next flight.
When the tiny plane door opened, tour guide Aaron Lang looked in and said, “Are you Anne?” It turns out that I was the only newbie to this company and one of only two new to the island. Aaron knew everyone else on the tour and most of them knew several others. I discovered that Gambell birding etiquette required that everyone who wanted to see a bird sighted by anyone in any group on the island be summoned by radio while the finder “sat on” the bird and held off photographers who risked flushing the bird while others raced to the site. This fits the definition of “chasing birds.”
Aaron’s first announcement was, “There’s a Gray-tailed Tattler just reported from along the lake just down the airstrip, so instead of going to the house first, we’ll head down to find it.” We left our luggage on the tarmac (no terminal) and climbed aboard the “birder’s bus”, a two-wheeled open-air cart holding six passengers pulled behind an ATV (also known as “four-wheeler”).…

By Anne Hoff
Sitting on a plastic mat on a pebble beach, the wind blowing at 30 miles per hour from the north, I join a line of thirty warmly bundled birders watching the wild Bering Sea. A slight windbreak is provided by the line of all-terrain vehicles along the flat ridge of the beach behind us. Though the temp is 40 Fahrenheit, it’s cold!
Thus begins a birding day at the Siberian Yupik village of Gambell on the Northwest Cape of treeless St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. The population of 680 native residents swells for a few weeks from mid-May to June and from mid-August to October each year by up to 50 non-islanders who seek a view of birds found nowhere else in North America, as well as surprise Asian vagrants that draw big-list birders.
Part of the Bering Land Bridge during the last Ice Age, St. Lawrence Island is about 20 miles by 100 miles. It now lies 45 miles off the coast of the Chukotsk Peninsula of Siberia and 195 miles WNW of Nome. (You truly can see Russia while doing a sea watch!)
I travelled there as part of a ten-person, 11-day tour with Wilderness Birding Adventures. We flew to Nome and then transferred to a 12-seat plane for the flight to Gambell. Luckily, all of our food — omitted from our flight due to weight limitations — arrived on the next flight.
When the tiny plane door opened, tour guide Aaron Lang looked in and said, “Are you Anne?” It turns out that I was the only newbie to this company and one of only two new to the island. Aaron knew everyone else on the tour and most of them knew several others. I discovered that Gambell birding etiquette required that everyone who wanted to see a bird sighted by anyone in any group on the island be summoned by radio while the finder “sat on” the bird and held off photographers who risked flushing the bird while others raced to the site. This fits the definition of “chasing birds.”
Aaron’s first announcement was, “There’s a Gray-tailed Tattler just reported from along the lake just down the airstrip, so instead of going to the house first, we’ll head down to find it.” We left our luggage on the tarmac (no terminal) and climbed aboard the “birder’s bus”, a two-wheeled open-air cart holding six passengers pulled behind an ATV (also known as “four-wheeler”).…

By Jess Beebe

Most people think of Point Isabel primarily as a dog park, and indeed it features one of the largest and most scenic off-leash dog areas anywhere. But this park is also the gateway to a premier birding destination, offering access to a delightful stretch of the San Francisco Bay Trail that meanders through a restored salt marsh and slough and past expansive mudflats.

Tires, shopping carts, and chunks of concrete remind us that this place – like many shoreline parks – has a checkered history of human use. (It was acquired by the East Bay Regional Park District in 1975 to offset the construction of the neighboring Postal Service facility.) Here, as elsewhere, the Bay Trail runs parallel to a busy freeway. Yet the place has a wild beauty that transcends the heavy impact by people, both past and present, and makes it a worthwhile destination even for nature lovers who generally prefer more pristine places.

The mudflats and salt marsh provide outstanding habitat for shorebirds year-round and ducks in winter. Upland habitat hosts warblers and other songbirds. But without a doubt, the star resident is the Ridgway’s Rail. This species was known as the Clapper Rail until 2014, when the West Coast population was declared distinct from Gulf and Atlantic populations and given its own name. The interpretive displays along the Bay Trail still refer to the birds as Clapper Rails. Whatever you call this species, it is classified as endangered, both federally and in California, mainly due to habitat loss.

Tidal channel west of the Bay Trail near Point Isabel / Photo by Jess Beebe Ridgway’s Rail (formerly California Clapper Rail / Photo by Bob Lewis

Rails are known for their secretive habits. They spend much of their time hidden deep in the salt marsh, venturing out onto the muddy banks of the channels only occasionally, and often for just moments at a time, before disappearing back into the marsh.

I saw my first Ridgway’s Rail on a trip to the Upper Coast of Texas. A fellow birder had told me that they could reliably be seen alongside a certain road on the Bolivar Peninsula. Determined to finally lay eyes on one of these elusive birds, I brought a sandwich and staked out the muddy marsh edge. About two hours later, a rail appeared. Having seen that rail – if only briefly – I felt more confident searching for them at Point Isabel, and later that season I spotted one there, too.…