By Linda Carloni
One of the (many) great things about the City of Alameda is the birding. Our long sandy bay-side beach and mudflats offer a feast of winter shorebirds. Among my favorites are our four plovers.
Plovers are in the family Charadriidae – chunky small-to-medium-size shorebirds with short necks, large eyes, and relatively short bills. Unlike their sandpiper colleagues, they are visual feeders. As you watch them, they run, stop, and then peck to get their prey. Their shorter bills don’t allow them to probe effectively to find and devour their food, so they occupy a different feeding niche. Their large eyes let them forage in low-light conditions, even at night.
Of the Bay Area’s four plovers, the Killdeer is with us year-round. While it does share our beaches, it seems to prefer plowed fields, gravelly patches, and other human-altered areas. Killdeer parents are well known for their distraction display – feigning injury and calling loudly in a visible location to draw a predator away from the nest. When the predator is far enough from the nest, the performing Killdeer makes a quick recovery and flies away, returning later to the nest. Like the Snowy and Semipalmated Plovers, it is brownish-tan on top and white below. Distinctively, it has two full dark neck rings. Its loud “kill-deeeeeer” alarm call lets us know how it got its name.
Killdeer: Note the double neck ring / Photo by Bob Lewis
Semipalmated Plover: Note the single neck ring / Photo by Bob Lewis
Unlike the Killdeer, the Semipalmated Plover joins us in the autumn; some stay for the winter, while others migrate further south. They leave us during spring and summer to breed in the north. Both the Killdeer and the Semipalmated have “disruptive coloration,” striking patterns that break up the silhouette of the bird – in the Semipalm’s case, one full dark neck ring.
These field marks help us distinguish one species from the other, but also make it more difficult for predators to see the bird as a whole against a variegated background. The Semipalmated Plover seems to be among the few plovers whose numbers are increasing, perhaps due to its versatility in food and habitat choice, its widespread coastal winter distribution, or its habitat expansion in the sub-Arctic.
The Snowy Plover is a much smaller, lighter, and whiter version of the first two. It’s only about 6 inches long, compared to about 7 inches for the Semipalm and a whopping 8 to 11 inches for the Killdeer.…

By Bob Lewis

Tired of talking politics at the Thanksgiving dinner table? Instead, entertain your family and friends by talking turkey –  specifically, our increasing population of Wild Turkeys in California.

Today, a quarter-million or more Wild Turkeys make their home in the Golden State. Maybe some are spending time in your neighborhood!

But in fact, this specific species—Meleagris gallopavo (comprising four distinct subspecies and their hybrids with the Rio Grande subspecies being the most widespread)—is not considered native to California. Scientific American wrote in a 2016 blog post:

“Some 10,000–12,000 years ago, another smaller species with different morphological characteristics, the extinct Meleagris californica, did exist in southern California as evidenced by the more than 11,100 bones from at least 791 different birds found in the Rancho La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles. In fact, the second most abundant fossils in the Tar Pits belong to M.californica. Exactly why M. californica—originally described as a peacock—became extinct thousands of years ago in California is not known but it has been suggested that decreasing rainfall led to a loss of essential vegetation.”

Wild Turkeys by Bob Lewis

The California Fish and Game Commission introduced thousands of farm-raised turkeys into the wild from the early 1900s through the 1950s, as part of a recreational hunting initiative. But the population remained flat, probably because these turkeys lacked the skills to survive in the wild.

From 1959 through 1999, however, the Commission shifted gears and released thousands of live-trapped wild turkeys (mostly of the Rio Grande subspecies from Texas) at over 200 locations. These wild birds had no problem adapting. In fact, their population grew and their territory expanded broadly throughout the state.

Here in the Bay Area, our Oakland Christmas Bird Count recorded its first Wild Turkey in 2002. We treated it as a rare sighting back then!

Wild Turkeys by Bob Lewis Wild Turkeys by Bob Lewis

Since then the numbers have rapidly increased, and in 2015 we reported 263 Wild Turkeys in the Oakland CBC. (Last year the number dropped slightly.) Although some note the “reintroduction” of the turkey in California has been successful, as the blog above notes, the ancient California Turkey was a different species, now extinct. So it seems more correct to note the “successful” introduction of non-native Wild Turkeys into our state.

Most of the turkeys we see are the Rio Grande subspecies, identified by buff-colored tips to their tails.…

By Ilana DeBare
We often talk about the bird life at Pier 94, the former waterfront dump site owned by the Port of San Francisco that we have been restoring as wildlife habitat since 2002. But Pier 94 is also becoming rich habitat for butterflies!
With support from a private family foundation, we contracted with San Francisco lepidopterist Liam O’Brien to conduct a year-long survey of butterflies, moths, and their host plants at Pier 94. Liam’s study took place from August 2016 through July 2017. We gathered additional data from a BioBlitz there in April 2017.
While we knew that some butterfly species were present at Pier 94, we were impressed by the range of species documented by Liam. Of 34 butterfly species found in San Francisco County, 20 were present at Pier 94.
The survey results  — in particular, which plants are hosts or nectar sources for our native butterfly species — are now informing our restoration work. This fall and winter, we’ll be planting specific plants to support butterflies, such as perennial grasses and deer weed in the upland area of the site.
Following are just a few of the butterfly and moth species Liam found. All photos by Liam O’Brien:
Anise Swallowtail (Papilio zelicaon) historically relied on native marsh plants such as angelica and cow parsnip, but today is found on the non-native fennel that dominates the edges of Pier 94.
Common Buckeye (Junonia coenia) is abundant during fall and can be found on native monkey flower and non-native English plantain.
Large Marble (Euchre ausonides) is a native butterfly often mistaken for a Cabbage White. Feeds on non-native mustards and wild radish.
Eastern-Tailed Blue (Cupido comyntas). This was only the second time Liam found this butterfly in San Francisco County; the first time was a decade ago at Fort Funston.
Ornate Tiger Moth (Grammia ornate). The males are attracted to light, but females like this one can be found flying slowly during daylight.
Acmon Blue (Plebejus acumen) hosts on perennial buckwheats and relies on coyote bush in the fall for nectar. Males are sky blue, females blue in spring and slate grey in fall. Both sexes have orange bands across their top hind wings.
Western Pygmy Blue (Brephidium exile) is present all year. It hosts (lays eggs) on native salt marsh plants such as pickle weed and California sea blite.
Field Crescent (Phyciodes pulchella). Liam was excited to find this one since its host, California aster, is rather sparse at Pier 94.…

By Ilana DeBare 
Ten years ago — on November 7, 2007 — the Cosco Busan container ship struck a tower supporting the Bay Bridge and released 54,000 gallons of fuel into San Francisco Bay.
The spill was disastrous for wildlife, killing thousands of birds and blackening shorelines throughout the region.
Golden Gate Bird Alliance played a leading role in documenting the damage, mobilizing 250 volunteers to conduct bird surveys in the days after the spill. Through the incident, GGBA and its partner organizations learned some valuable lessons in how to respond to spills.
But the bigger lessons of the Cosco Busan are sobering and have not yet been taken to heart by our country’s leaders.
“If there’s anything we learned ten years ago in San Francisco Bay, it’s that one small mistake can quickly kill a lot of birds and destroy places we care about deeply,” said Andrea Jones, Director of Bird Conservation for Audubon California. “Now that the federal government is pushing for new drilling, it’s important to remember what’s at risk.”
Oiled Western Grebe after Cosco Busan spill / Photo by Eddie Bartley
The anniversary of San Francisco Bay’s worst oil spill comes as the Trump Administration pushes for increased oil drilling off the California coast. At the president’s direction, the Commerce Department just completed a report outlining potential changes to allow oil drilling within national marine sanctuaries – including the Greater Farallones National Marine Sanctuary just off the Golden Gate Bridge. The Department of Interior is currently studying removing restrictions on new offshore drilling on the outer continental shelf.

The 2007 spill by the 900-foot Cosco Busan affected people, estuarine and marine wildlife, habitats, the fishing industry, and recreation across several counties. It happened in the middle of winter migration, the worst time and the worst place imaginable. Millions of waterbirds were arriving from the Arctic and Boreal forests to either winter here or rest during their southward migration – only to encounter oily water.
Oiled Surf Scoter after Cosco Busan spill / Photo by Eddie Bartley
Cosco Busan, where it hit the bridge tower / Photo by Scott Epperson
San Francisco Bay has been designated an Important Bird Area of Global Significance by Audubon because it hosts well over a million birds annually and has some of the last remaining wetlands in California. It is host to the largest shorebird concentration on the US Pacific Coast.
“Almost immediately following the spill, there were reports of dead and dying birds in the Bay,” said Jones.…

By Steve and Carol Lombardi
So there I was, standing in a marsh staring at a bird that my Sibley’s field guide identified as N. nycticorax or Black-crowned Night-Heron. As I leafed through my field guide I found myself wondering where the scientific and English names came from, who decided on the spelling, why the scattered capitals, and really—who jammed those hyphens into the common name?
Of course, we all learned in high school how Carl Linnaeus invented binomial nomenclature in the 1700s, giving a Latinized Genus species name to every organism. Since 1895, the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN) has been the primary body for assigning scientific names to animals. (As you would guess, there’s an organization that names plants, too: the ICN.[1]) Thus, the history of the name N. nycticorax is well documented, and there is little argument about the bird’s scientific name, spelling, or capitalization.
However, it gets a little trickier when we start talking about common names. People have complained for hundreds of years about the lack of uniformity in common names of all living things. Yet there are only a handful of organisms whose names have been standardized by some organizing body.[2] Birds are one of these few.
Someone decided this would be a Black-crowned Night-Heron and not a Red-eyed Night-Heron. Photo by Bill Walker
In the United States, the American Ornithological Society (formerly the American Ornithological Union and still usually referred to as the AOU) maintains—and occasionally rearranges—the taxonomy of bird species in North America. Reputable American field guides and online sources like the Cornell allaboutbirds website use the AOU taxonomy. The AOU Checklists link each scientific name with one standardized English-language common name.
The AOU uses a detailed protocol to determine the naming, spelling, capitalization, and hyphenation of both formal and common names. Hence, the bird staring at me with its unsettling red eyes is listed in the seventh edition of the AOU Checklist as Nycticorax nycticorax with the standardized common name “Black-crowned Night-Heron.” Note the hyphenated “Night-Heron.” The first AOU Checklist in 1886, wherein they made the case for standardizing common names and spellings, lists the bird as “Black-crowned Night Heron” (no hyphen).[3]
First edition of AOU Checklist, 1886
Capitalization, then hyphenation.
The practice of capitalizing common names goes back hundreds of years in the scientific community. The AOU capitalized common bird names even before their first edition of the Checklist, yet newspapers and most other general interest publications insist on using lowercase for common names.…