What birds do in the rain
Bay Nature magazine recently ran an online column on what birds do in the rain, by San Francisco consulting naturalist Josiah Clark. We liked it so much that we’re reprinting it! (With permission of course.)
By Josiah Clark
The sea gives birth to the storm and it’s the seabirds that feel it first. With instincts any sailor would envy, seabirds sense and flee from the storm front, often arriving in numbers days before the weather makes landfall. Larger pelagic birds somehow retain their independence from land, toughing out even the most raging of storms. In these conditions it is the smaller pelagic birds that are brought to the brink. With less mass and running on tighter energy budgets, murrelets, phalaropes, and the aptly-named Storm Petrels near land are signs of an uncommonly torn-up ocean beyond the horizon.
Closer to shore, gulls, pelicans, and loons stream south over wave and bluff in a darkening sky, avoiding the worst of the storm’s wrath. But when seabirds get unlucky, exhausted, and too wet, they are at the mercy of the current. At the Golden Gate on an incoming tide it means getting sucked into the Bay. This accounts for many of the only East and South Bay records for truly pelagic birds. Despite their remarkable instincts and endurance, countless seabirds of many types perish during extreme winter storms. But only a fraction of their corpses can be found at the high tide line after any big storm.
As for land birds, if the rain is not too heavy nor too cold, most birds will keep feeding. Stalwart Christmas bird counters regularly go birding in the rain, and there is often sustained activity with plenty to look at even in heavy rain if you know where to look. But what happens to them when it’s pouring, say, for days?
The water-shedding micro-structures of flight feathers shed droplets off the birds’ back. An oil gland at the base of the tail helps keep the feathers zipped up water-tight. The inner insulating layers of down feathers are kept dry and able to be fluffed up with air, holding in body heat.

If I were a bird I would want to go inside a dry stump. As it turns out, only birds that nest in cavities are likely to have that luxury. Flocks of Pygmy Nuthatches pack into chiseled holes in dead snags like clown cars, where they seem to embody the meaning of “cozy”.…