mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) (01/05/91)
The December issue of the American Birding Association newsletter had a survey of the membership's "most wanted" birds, and right at the top of the list was the Black Rail. As it turns out, last weekend was the time of the highest tides of the year in the San Francisco Bay. I hadn't seen a Black Rail in three years so I went to the Palo Alto Baylands, at the south end of the bay, for the express purpose of finding this bird. The road to the parking lot makes a 90 degree turn as it hits the marsh, and the edge of the road has a thin border of scrubby bushes that provide cover and higher ground from the marsh proper. A small area of the road edge, perhaps 70 ft. in length, centered around the "L" of the turn in the road, is "the spot" for the rails. People were already gathering as I pulled in and I quickly took up a position on one of the legs of the "L". The crowd eventually grew to 50 + birders, all crammed shoulder-to-shoulder along the short stretch of roadbed. Some people had to be content with standing behind the front line in a second rank. We checked out the numbers of Song Sparrows, Marsh Wrens, and Common Yellowthroats that were forced into view by the rising water. Suddenly, someone on the other leg of the corner announced the presence of a Black Rail, and there was a rush of birders from my side to the spot. I realized that it would be fruitless to try and find a position over there, so I remained where I was, hoping for another sighting at this end. Unfortunately, all of the action remained on the other side and I eventually left, walking to the other side of the marsh to try and find Sharp Tailed Sparrows. I failed in this endeavor and ended up getting skunked for the day. The next day I arrived early and found a strategic spot near where the rail had been seen the previous day. Again, the crowd grew large. As the tide slowly flooded the marsh, we were entertained by a jackrabbit that found its hiding place getting a little too damp and, as it splashed about looking for a new one, flushed up a couple of soras. Thirty feet in front of us a Sharp Tailed Sparrow popped up and, joining the other marsh birds, posed for us at the top of the pickleweed. An immature Peregrine Falcon perched on the top of a high-tension tower, eating something. Finally I heard someone to my left say that a Black Rail was in the bushes and was moving to the right, towards me. As its progress through the bushes was announced by each person in their turn, I kept watch on a small opening at the base of a bush in front of me. The rail moved into this opening, climbing over the lowest branches, no more than six feet from me. After it passed this spot, I shifted my gaze to a clear opening between bushes, a few feet to the right, that the bird would have to pass through if it continued in this direction. It entered this opening and covered the foot or so of open space at a rather leisurely pace, giving me and a few other well-placed people an excellent look at its field marks. White speckling covered the black back and wings, a chestnut patch stood out on the nape, and a deep red eye stared at us. It had the typical rail shape; chunky body with a short, pointed tail. However, it seemed to be no longer than the Song Sparrows that flitted about all around us. The rail seemed to settle into the dense bushes just to our right, because it never made it to the next opening about ten feet further down. We continued to wait for further action. Finally, the person next to me called out that the rail had just moved through the same opening towards the left. I saw some movement at the small opening where I had first seen it but, at this point, the bird spooked (After all, there were a number of people standing within ten feet of the bird; talking, gesturing). It flushed and flew about five feet in a small arc, back into the bushes to the right. This did, however, give some of the other people a chance to see it. Satisfied, I relinquished my place in the line and, as the vigil continued, went off to scope out the Peregrine Falcon. I have observed the Black Rail on a number of occasions in the past, but the excitement of seeing this secretive little bird never seems to wear off. Mike
bob@delphi.uchicago.edu (Robert S. Lewis, Jr.) (01/07/91)
In article <50072@olivea.atc.olivetti.com> mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) writes: > > The December issue of the American Birding Association >newsletter had a survey of the membership's "most wanted" birds, and >right at the top of the list was the Black Rail. I discovered my first (and only) black rail in the most unlikely way: It was late in May (about the 26th, if I remember correctly) and my girlfriend and I were having a horrible spat that lasted until about 4:00 am. Finally, I decided I couldn't take it anymore, so I grabbed my binoculars and told her I was going birdwatching. It was still quite dark, and a thunderstorm was just ending--it was very hot and humid. I live on the south side of Chicago (Hyde Park, near the Museum of Science and Industry and Jackson Park, for those who know the area), and to get to the park where I usually birdwatch, I have to cross some of those small city parks with mowed lawns, a sparse cover of mature trees, and scattered swing sets and basketball courts. Well as I was crossing this park, I noticed in the near dark a strange little bird fly from the very edge of the road that crosses in front of the Museum to an area about 50 feet into the park I was crossing. I walked over to where the bird landed, looked around, and there within ten feet of where I was standing was a black rail, crouching as low as the little bird could as if to hide in the three inch tall grass. I walked right over to the bird and knelt down within two feet of where it was "hiding," getting the best look at a black rail I could ever want. I waited there for about 45 minutes hoping that another birdwatcher would come by to see this amazing discovery, but no one showed up. Finally, I decided to call someone, so I left the bird and went over to the nearest pay phone (over a block away). Unfortunately, none of my birdwatching friend's answered, so I went back to try to find the bird; needless to say it was long gone. I think this was about the twelfth sighting of a black rail in the greater Chicago area since 1900. However, though I documented the bird, I think it is only considered hypothetical since I was the only observer. I imagine, after this sighting, that the bird may be much more common in migration along the Chicago Lakefront than sightings indicate, and that it may not be unusual for black rails to stop in city parks and other uncharacteristic habitats at night while migrating. However, it would take a tremendous stroke of luck to locate the little dark bird silently hidden in the grass and motionless under a cover of darkeness.