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From: mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser)
Newsgroups: rec.birds
Subject: Black Rail
Message-ID: <50072@olivea.atc.olivetti.com>
Date: 4 Jan 91 21:31:37 GMT
Sender: news@olivea.atc.olivetti.com
Lines: 73


	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