By Ilana DeBare
Least Terns. Harbor Seals. Western Bluebirds…. Alameda’s rich variety of wildlife had their day in the sun – or, um, drizzle — on Saturday as part of Golden Gate Bird Alliance’s Wild! in Alameda symposium and viewing stations.
About 100 people including Alameda Mayor Trish Spencer filled the Alameda Main Library for the two-hour symposium and slide show on eight species that make the island their home for all or part of the year.
Snowy and Great Egrets
GGBA Executive Director Cindy Margulis described the nesting colony of egrets on Bay Farm Island. Discovered in 2007, the nests used to extend over five or six trees but after several trees were thoughtlessly trimmed, the colony contracted to one pine tree. It has about 29 nests — 12 percent of all Great Egret nests in the East and South Bay.
Cindy Margulis explains the two species of egrets that rose on Bay Farm Island / Photo by Ilana DeBare
Ospreys
Richard Bangert, publisher of the Alameda Point Environmental Report, recounted the soap opera-like saga of Ospreys trying to nest at Alameda Point. Over the past few years, they’ve tried nesting in inhospitable places (masts of ships, a light pole directly over a motorcycle class area). One year, breeding was distracted by the arrival of a second, rival female. Another year, Common Ravens nesting nearby chased the Ospreys off.
“There was a certain self-confidence about those ravens,” Bangert said. “It was one of the most in-your-face bird actions. It actually picked up the Ospreys’ nesting materials and took it over to their (ravens’) nest.”
Perhaps 2016 will be more auspicious: The Osprey pair has chosen a more secure spot and may be sitting on an egg.
The Alameda Ospreys are part of a general renaissance of this majestic species. Once threatened with extinction due to DDT, Ospreys started nesting along San Francisco Bay for the first time in documented history in 1990. Now there are around 30 nests along the Bay. “The hypothesis is that Bay water is cleaner than it used to be, and it’s easier for them to see fish in the water,” Bangert said.
Harbor Seals
Mark Klein, who used to work with the Marine Mammal Research Center, described the harbor seal population that hauls out on a dock at Seaplane Lagoon. When that dock was threatened because of development, seal lovers spoke out and won installation of a new floating dock for the seals, which is scheduled to be installed in about six weeks.…

By Ilana DeBare
The herons and egrets that nest in the street trees of downtown Oakland have been painting the sidewalks white for years.
On Wednesday, those sidewalks suddenly got a lot more color.
And the birds got a lot more support — from talented artists taking part in Golden Gate Bird Alliance‘s second annual Eco-Art Flash Mob.
Over two dozen artists converged on Alice and 13th Streets, the center of the downtown nesting colony of Black-crowned Night-herons and Snowy Egrets. Over 50 pairs of herons are raising young in the treetops there, and dozens of egrets are in the process of building nests.
The goal of the art flash mob was to raise public awareness of the dramatic birds nesting overhead, and inspire downtown residents and office workers to protect them.
Artist Carrie McClish at work / Photo by Ilana DeBare
Sidewalk art by Erica Kawata / Photo by Ilana DeBare
It’s part of a broader campaign by Golden Gate Bird Alliance that includes volunteer citizen-scientists monitoring the heron colony; docents leading tours and informing the public about the birds; and a partnership between GGBA and International Bird Rescue, the Lindsay Wildlife Museum, and the Oakland Zoo to rescue young herons that are injured when falling from their nests.
The heron project grew out of a notorious incident two years ago, when the post office hired tree trimmers who downed nests and left heron chicks homeless and injured. But Wednesday’s scene was far different — a mood of wonder and delight as birds flew in and out of the trees above, and artists created colorful chalk images below.
Nesting trees in the heart of downtown – can you spot the egrets? / Photo by Ilana DeBare
Artist Mary Blume at work / Photo by Ilana DeBare
There herons and egrets are colonial nesters, and some street trees had up to a dozen nests built by both species. The block was filled with the birds’ clicks, squawks, kwoks, and cackles.
“This sounded like super fun,” said Dustin Feider, a member of the Urban Sketchers group who was drawing a wacky-eyed heron chick from a photo. “I had no idea this was here. Look at this tree — it’s fully packed!”
Wild-eyed heron chick by Dustin Feider / Photo by Cindy Margulis
“What a wonderful thing to discover right in the midst of the city!” echoed Cathy Raingarden, another artist from the Urban Sketchers group.…

By Mark Rauzon

What does it mean to take direct action to save seabirds? Pulling weeds? Poisoning ants? Trapping rats? Killing cats? How far would you go?
I had the chance to plumb the depths of these actions when I worked for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Hawaii. As a young graduate student in 1982, I was attending the University of Hawaii while working for the USFWS when an opportunity came my way — to voyage to an equatorial desert island called Jarvis to eliminate feral cats from what was once a vast seabird colony. That event changed my life and started my career in the Pacific, one that has taken me over 30 years to experience, explore, and now explain.
Few people have ever heard of the flyspecks of land scattered across the vast Pacific that represent America’s oceanic frontier. Who knows about Howland Island, the “ratoll” where Amelia Earhart was headed; or Baker Island where germ warfare testing took place; or Jarvis Island, the “catoll” on the equator?
Perhaps better known are the military bases of Wake Island and Johnston Atoll, and the Palmyra Atoll yacht harbor. But Uncle Sam had been sailing along the desolate isles of Oceania for centuries, far enough away to be out of sight, out of mind, where anything goes, and often did, only to be quickly forgotten. Each island has a hidden history, a secret story to tell, and an ecological lesson to teach. My new book — Isles of Amnesia: The History, Geography, and Restoration of America’s Forgotten Pacific Islands — is a summary of these stories, lessons, and forgotten tales.
White Terns, by Mark Rauzon
My experiences coincided with the development of island conservation as a field of study. From my cat eradication days at Jarvis during the great El Niño of 1982-83, I witnessed the recovery of the island from a colony where seven species clung to existence, to a place of 14 breeding seabird species and the largest colony of seabirds in the tropical Pacific. The gratification of seeing direct action “make” new birds inspired me to continue, and I went on to lead and advocate for other eradication efforts. Over the decades, the field developed through successes and failures to a point where vast acreages are today cleared of invasive animals via helicopter poisoning campaigns.
In the course of my work on Pacific Island conservation, I uncovered hidden American histories like germ warfare testing.

By Steve and Carol Lombardi
The north slope of Mt. Diablo near Clayton offers one of the best birding spots in the East Bay. Mitchell Canyon is a shady, steep-sided, north-facing canyon with varied habitat and more-or-less permanent water. It provides easy access to both the casual stroller and the serious hiker/biker/equestrian. (Birding by horse? Now, there’s a concept.)
The canyon is a delightful place to bird year-round, but becomes spectacular from late April to early May. This is when migrant warblers, flycatchers, and others make brief visits on the way to their summer breeding grounds. And the canyon’s resident breeders show up and make themselves known with their songs.
While you’re there, don’t spend all your time looking up into the canopy. Be sure to enjoy the plethora of spring-blooming wildflowers alongside the trail. The canyon is one of the best places to see the Mt. Diablo globe lily (Calochortus pulchellus Benth.) among many other wildflowers.
Because of the canyon’s steep sides and deep shade, the area provides several different habitat types. Pine-oak woodland, riparian, grassland, chaparral, and sage scrub are all accessible in a relatively short walk.
Mitchell Canyon in springtime, by Scott Hein
Mitchell Canyon in the dry season, by Matt Guziejka
All northside trails into the park eventually lead to Mitchell Canyon (see the park map listed below). From the Clayton entrance, Mitchell Canyon Road follows Mitchell Creek and runs moderately uphill for about two miles through oak woodland and riparian habitat. It then breaks out of the trees and becomes a steep climb through chaparral and scrub, eventually emerging onto Summit Road in the main part of the park after several strenuous miles. If you’re out for a morning bird walk, the beginning of the steep portion is a good place to turn around. Of course, if you want to hike to the 3,800 foot Mt. Diablo summit, you’re welcome to do it.
A more moderate spring bird walk would start in the Mitchell Canyon visitor center parking lot. Begin by birding in the oaks around the parking area for oak breeders like White-breasted Nuthatch, and “parking lot” birds like quail and turkey. Stop in the visitor center if it’s open (quirky hours, but usually open on weekends). Walk through the native plant garden, look up at the snags for cavity-nesters like Acorn Woodpecker and European Starling, and pick up the trail guide to the numbered signposts.…

Editor’s Note: Golden Gate Bird Alliance is sponsoring a birding tour to Ecuador in fall 2016. Here’s an account of one member’s visit to Ecuador this winter.
By Krista Jordan
In January, I traveled to Ecuador for a birding adventure with my friends Jack and Farley Connelly. Our small party spent the trip with one guide, Ecuadorian naturalist and guide Miguel Hipo. Over nine days, we traveled several hundred kilometers, stayed in three lodges, and ranged from altitudes of 2,300 to 11,000 feet. I wish I’d tracked miles walked, but I can guess we averaged five or six miles each day. We slogged through mud, waited in the rain, gasped for breath at high elevation, braved large creepy crawlies, and even took a night walk three-quarters of a mile through the rain forest. We asked for the most rigorous path in order to see the most species. We got what we asked for.
Was it worth it? Emphatically, yes! I wish I could do it all over again. We saw 293 species in that time, each one magical. Below is a log of our journey:
Farley and I flew from SFO to Panama City and eventually into Quito, where Jack was waiting for us. It was my first time in South America and I was amazed at the terrain. Quito is located in the northern highlands of Ecuador and, at around 9,340 feet, holds the title of the highest capital city in the world. It is flanked by volcanoes, some snow-capped and visible on a clear day. The city is 1,600 square miles with a population of 2.2 million. We drove along the edges — deep, dry canyons hugging the walls of the foothills. Everything was so different, with sparse vegetation and desert-like terrain. We passed through suburbs and barrios, eventually leaving the paved roads for a steep muddy trail leading up to our lodge – an 18th century Spanish hacienda located in the highland rainforest at nearly 11,000 feet!
View of Quito from lodge grounds by Krista Jordan
The San Jorge Quito Eco-Lodge sits on 230 acres of untouched, protected land. When we arrived, it looked like paradise. Beautiful grounds lined with gardens, all stacked with hummingbird feeders. We immediately pulled out our binoculars and field guides and forgot how hungry and tired we were from the travel. But eventually we sat down for lunch and watched Sparkling Violetears and Shining Sunbeams dive bomb one another, sometimes really close to our heads.…