Years later on Tomales Bay, “I realized how that early experience shaped my life, and that I could provide the same kind of experience for others, especially for kids who otherwise wouldn’t have the opportunity. I decided to build a boat that could take people up close to wetlands wildlife without disturbing the creatures.”

“I wanted to get close to the birds, so I needed a safe, stable flat-bottomed boat with oars, so it would be silent. Water birds are used to predators coming from above or from land; when you approach from the water, they do not feel threatened.” He built a pirogue-like craft in the style of a traditional Cajun rice-harvesting boat and name it Le Bateau du Audubon. Today I was his passenger.

We passed the Station’s checkpoint and headed to the Refuge’s visitor center in the old Navy post office building. There we met wildlife biologist John Bradley, the genial refuge manager, and soon were joined by the others on today’s tour: Warren Iliff, president of the Long Beach Aquarium of the Pacific, and Gloria Zinno and Michele Nachum of the Aquarium staff, here to prepare for an upcoming work expedition. Amid wetland exhibits and stuffed birds, Bradley told us a bit about how the wetland we would be visiting has been used and protected by the Navy. He and Anderson pointed out several other parts of the Station that could be restored.

We examined an experimental nesting shelter built for the endangered light-footed clapper rail—a sort of tipi woven from strands of tule and coated with fiberglass, with entry holes, to be mounted on a floating plywood platform. Since 1987, 125 artificial shelters have been placed in the Seal Beach Refuge. The secretive clapper rails build nests of cordgrass, loosely attaching them to the tall surrounding stems so they can rise and fall with the tides. The artificial rafts, covered with grass or tumbleweed, have been installed because much of the cordgrass in the Refuge is not tall enough. Clapper rail habitat has been so drastically reduced, and these birds are so vulnerable to predation and extreme weather, that they need all the help they can get.
Despite these efforts, the clapper rail population in the Refuge has fallen dramatically in the past two years. In 1994 over 130 rails were counted; this year’s total could be as low as ten. An ongoing mammalian predator management program has greatly reduced threats from red foxes, striped skunks, opossums, and feral cats. Avian predators are harder to stop. At least a dozen predatory bird species have been sighted at the Refuge. “More juvenile red-tailed hawks overwinter here than anywhere in southern California,” said Bradley. “Over 200 individuals have been tagged here in one day.”

The California least tern also gets assistance. On a large aerial photo of the Station Bradley pointed out a round area surrounded by electric fence: “Tern Island,” designated least tern nesting habitat. These birds are endangered in part because they nest on open beaches and in sparsely vegetated areas, where they are extremely vulnerable. They rely on the camouflage patterns of their eggs and chicks for concealment. In 1997 there were over 175 least tern nesting attempts, with 250 chicks fledged; this year 74 attempts yielded zero chicks fledged. “Crows came in early one morning this last season and destroyed the eggs in 50 of our nests,” said Bradley. Volunteer monitors watch for avian predators, but attacks often happen too swiftly to stop. The tern site is also invaded by Bermuda grass and other alien plants. The Long Beach Aquarium plans to bring a crew of volunteers to remove them.

We piled back into the cars and headed out around the Weapons Station to a boat launch on County land. Anderson quickly and single-handedly launched Le Bateau, and we climbed aboard. He stood at the stern, manning long oars attached to upright poles. The steep, rocky banks of the County channel—covered with iceplant, pampas grass, and other invasive plants—soon gave way to stands of native cordgrass and pickleweed, eelgrass beds, and expanses of calm water broken only by surfacing fish and diving birds.
Birds! There were birds everywhere, and their names rang out as Anderson and Bradley rapidly pointed out and identified them, Anderson deftly bringing the boat about for better views. Within minutes we’d seen ospreys, northern harriers, and brown pelicans perched on concrete pilings, with Forster’s terns on the ropes between; the first surf scoters of the season; great egrets and snowy egrets; western grebes and willets. A flock of black brandt settled on the water to rest and feed on its migration from Alaska to Mexico.

A northern harrier reminded Bradley of when he’d seen one catch a mouse that was clinging to a stick. The harrier carried the mouse, still holding the stick, to a clapper rail shelter, which sent the rails scurrying out to swim in circles until the raptor finished its meal. Floating through beds of eelgrass near Tern Island, we could see about a dozen of the clapper rail shelters, but did not spot any rails.

Anderson told us of the many creatures that live beneath the surface—crabs, shellfish, and fish fry abound. Mullet swim in circles in the calm water, creating water columns into which they release sperm and eggs to mingle—impossible in the turbulent ocean.

As we headed back toward the dock, a horned grebe swam by, then eared grebes, then a loon. Probe feeders—willets, dowitchers, whimbrels, and marbled godwits—clustered on a narrow spit waiting for the tide to ebb. Le Bateau moved silently across the smooth surface, and the birds calmly went about their lives around us. The boat’s shallow draw allowed us to pull up almost aground to look at wormholes in the mud.

A lone fisherman standing in the shallows near the road reminded us that we were still in urban Orange County. The military buildings surrounding the Refuge had been easy to ignore, but as we floated back into civilization our conversation turned to political concerns and the problems of wetland restoration. Most of the nearby wetlands are under constant threat of destruction.

Hal Hughes, associate editor of Coast & Ocean, also plays the fiddle. He lives in San Francisco.

Tours aboard Le Bateau du Audubon may be arranged for Tomales Bay, Elkhorn Slough, Morro Bay, Upper Newport Bay, or South San Diego Bay by contacting Tim Anderson: (714) 894-4875; e-mail: lebateautim@
birdingbyboat.org. See www.BirdingByBoat.org for more information, photos, videos, and links to other coastal activists.