Sandhill cranes flying overhead outside wake me early in the morning. Their loud bugle-like calls capable of being heard up to two and half miles away easily pierce my sleep and I imagine them above me. Stout bodies with slender necks stretching out in front and long legs trailing behind as they soar, flapping occasionally. Their distinctive sound comes from a long windpipe that coils into their sternum, giving them a resonant, low-pitched sound. Listen!
The sandhill cranes are traveling down the Pacific Flyway to join millions of other birds in California’s Central Valley wetlands as they have for thousands of years. Many are water birds who spend the winter eating heartily and trying to avoid death by predation until they migrate north in spring to their summer breeding habitat. The 400 mile long Central Valley is the winter home of 60 percent of the migratory waterfowl in the Pacific Flyway, a migration corridor extending from Alaska’s Bering Strait to Patagonia. A billion migrating birds pass through the Flyway, some stopping in the Central Valley to eat and rest up before continuing further south.
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So far this season about 5,000 sandhill cranes have arrived in Merced National Wildlife Refuge in the San Joaquin Valley, the southern portion of the Central Valley. Thousands more are expected. The refuge hosts the largest wintering colony in the Pacific Flyway — 20,000 lesser sandhill cranes. They are joined by 60,000 arctic-nesting geese like Ross’s and snow geese, long-billed curlews, many other different types of water and shore birds like ducks, geese, and cranes.
I love visiting the refuges in winter. No photo, video or words can give you the impact of being among thousands of big birds, many of them mostly white. Some spend the daytime off the water foraging in grasslands and fly back to the water at sunset filling the sky so thickly that they have to fly circles above the water waiting for an opening that allows them to land. At sunrise, they lift off and fly back to their forage grounds. Here’s a video of 10,000 Ross’ geese flying out in the morning from Merced wetlands.
Snow geese arrive in December and our annual Snow Goose Festival is held over five days in late January. People of different age, skill and knowledge levels — not just those already interested in bird-watching — enjoy workshops (e.g., nature photography, bird ID, crafts for kids), art shows, and guided tours of the various refuges in the Sacramento Valley’s 24,850 acre wetlands. This year bird field guide author Alvaro Jaramillo will be the festival’s Keynote Speaker for the Gathering of the Wings banquet (love that — Gathering of the Wings — might give this name to my home). His topic is The Birder Brain and Why Birding is for Everyone. Since the “birder brain” is something I’m trying to cultivate, I might buck my own tradition of avoiding large flocks of humans and take a workshop. I know this is a learned skill, there are tricks, and they are within my reach.
Most bird identification lectures focus on field marks and the specifics of separating species A from species B. But few ask exactly how we identify birds. What is our brain going through in order to do this? How does our brain get tripped up during bird identification – ever encountered the "leaf bird," the "branch bird," or the worse one of all, "the plastic bag snowy owl?" Why do experts identify birds almost without thinking, while the rest of us need to struggle? Are they different than the rest of us, or are there tricks?
These birds and other wildlife depend on the refuges and conservation lands, even the pastures and croplands (rice primarily). Many are essential wildlife habitat all year round. Agriculture, oil fields, urban development, highways, flood control, and water diversion have drastically altered the Central Valley and reduced wetland acreage and quality. A system of national and state wildlife refuges, NGO-operated sanctuaries and other preserves help ensure habitat is available for 300 bird species, including wintering birds and those who live and breed here in summer like tri-colored blackbirds and the endemic yellow-billed magpies. Rice fields and other lands are flooded to create additional winter habitat the birds need. Spreading out millions of birds helps limit avian diseases favored by over-crowding.
Rice field harvests in the Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area west of Sacramento ended last week and the first of five million birds have arrived to Yolo’s 25 square miles of wetlands. The Bypass also is where the adjacent Sacramento River floods when the main channel is full (that’s the Bypass part). The Yolo Basin Foundation is a non-profit group overseeing the coalition of groups responsible for this habitat (including California Waterfowl, The Nature Conservancy, and USFWS). Twenty years ago the first rice farmer here agreed to flood his fields for wintering birds and now other farmers have followed and made “surrogate” wetlands of their rice fields. People say if you flood an area, the birds will come. So do humans. Annually, about 45,000 human visit Yolo in the winter to enjoy bird-watching and hunting.
Another protected area south of Sacramento, the 50,000 acre Cosumnes River Preserve, has one of the largest valley oak riparian forests left in the Central Valley. Valley oaks only grow in California and depend upon seasonal flooding for regeneration as their seedlings tolerate inudation that drowns competing plants. The Preserve is a cooperative project among private non-profit organizations (Nature Conservancy, Ducks Unlimited), public agencies (e.g., BLM, CDFW, CDWR, NRCS) and the local school district.
The sandhill cranes flying over my house and other migratory birds in the Pacific Flyway don’t plan their winters based on what humans have done to their wetlands and grasslands. They fly south when conditions in their breeding range like day length, temperature and reduced food abundance tell them it’s time to leave. They arrive in the Central Valley expecting to find the wetland and upland habitats that have always offered them a winter refuge or a rest stop on their way south.
This year the sandhill cranes, geese, ducks, and other birds in the Central Valley will again find adequate natural wetlands and grasslands. Nature used to provide the wetland, woodland, and riparian habitats regardless of what humans did. Since the late 1800’s nature has depended on us to ensure that enough suitable habitat is available throughout the year. Despite the on-going drought, we’ve had ample fall rain in the northern part of the Central Valley and managers can release enough water for the refuges.
A billion birds keep migrating south through the Pacific Flyway. When fields are flooded the birds come to those fields. Birds and habitats are inextricably tied together. If you flood it they will come. If you don’t they will come anyway but won’t find enough healthy habitat. This year, the birds still have their winter homes. And we will hold festivals to honor them.
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Learn more about the past, present, and future of the central valley and its habitats: california nuts aren’t all on trees.