Friends of China Camp

It’s dusk at China Camp, and the last bands of sunlight shimmer across the pickleweed, a rumpled blanket that stretches to the edge of San Pablo Bay. A scuff of wind rustles the cattails; otherwise, stillness. Then, “kakakakakaKaKakKAK!” An explosion of sound echoes across the marsh, an ascending rattle that ends as abruptly as it started. 

You scan the sky. Nothing. Scan the pickleweed. Still nothing. Then another call cuts through the twilight peace: a startling and emphatic “kick-kee-BURRRRRRRR, kick-kee-BURRRRRR.”

What invisible creatures are making all this racket?

Welcome to the maddening world of rail spotting. Searching for these elusive shorebirds, two species of which thrive at China Camp, is akin to looking for a ghost. Rails define the concept of sneaking around, flying infrequently and traveling mostly on foot. The birds typically scuttle under the pickleweed canopy, following the natural labyrinth of tidal channels that snake through the wetlands. 

Though you may never see rails, these shy birds are worth your attention, particularly because they are threatened. More than 90 percent of the San Francisco Bay’s naturally occurring wetlands have been drained, destroyed, or filled. China Camp’s thriving wetlands provide some of the best remaining habitat for rails in the Bay Area. It’s lucky to have these year-round residents in relatively robust numbers—even if we can’t find them very often. 

You can increase your odds at seeing them by targeting certain times of day, namely dawn and dusk, when the rails tend to call. Very low tides, when bay water drains out of the tidal channels, are also good times to search for rails, since you can sometimes spy the birds poking along in the mud in the narrow channels. Very high tides, such as the king tides of winter, can also be good times for rail-spotting, since tidal channels may flood, forcing rails out of hiding as they search for higher ground.

Here’s more info on the two types of threatened and endangered rails that call China Camp home, and how to identify them if they do reveal themselves:

Ridgway’s rail (Rallus obsoletus)

About the size of a small chicken, a Ridgway’s rail has mottled brown feathers, a squat neck, and small reddish-brown eyes, It uses its sharply pointed, dark-orange beak to probe the mud for small shellfish, snails, and other rail food. 

Listen for this bird’s high-energy call rattling across the marsh at dawn and dusk, especially during nesting season, typically March through July.

Formerly known as the California clapper rail, this species, listed as federally endangered in 1970, got a new name in 2014. DNA research proved that it was a distinct species from clapper rails living elsewhere in the country. While we’re on the subject of names, Gallinas Creek, which enters the bay just north of China Camp, may have been named by early Spanish settlers who spied the chicken-size Ridgway’s rails in the marsh. (“Gallinas” is the Spanish word for hens.)

Ridgway’s rails build small platform nests that can float in the marsh’s tidal channels. Young chicks are “precocial,” meaning they can see, run, and forage for food soon after hatching. But that can get tiring, and chicks sometimes hitch a ride on their parents’ backs. Cool fact: Ridgway’s rails have special glands that excrete salt, allowing them to drink bay water. 

California black rail

Don’t despair if you never spot this bird. Its small size (only 5 or 6 inches long) and extremely shy nature make it a real prize for patient birders. 

This stout little shorebird has subtle but beautiful markings: a smoky gray to black body speckled with white dots, a chestnut-brown nape that resembles a little kerchief draped across the back of the bird’s neck, and bright red eyes. The short black beak is built for making shallow probes in the mud in search of food. 

California black rails stick to the channels and dense stands of pickleweed for cover, and for good reason. They are prey for assorted salt-marsh predators. Look for great blue herons and great egrets prowling the channels at low tide, looking for rails. During winter’s highest tides, when bay water floods the marsh, look for predators hunting for rails that get flushed out of their hiding places. 

Even if you don’t spy black rails, you can listen for its call. Its distinctive, reedy, three-note call often rises from thick stands of pickleweed, especially on spring evenings when nesting is underway and the little rails are most territorial.

The California black rail is listed as threatened by the California Department of Fish and Game, and a species of concern by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The birds’ numbers are directly impacted by destruction of wetlands. As is true with Ridgway’s rails, California black rails are another reason why it’s so important to preserve, protect, and restore tidal wetlands like the ones ringing China Camp’s shores.—Harriot Manley/FOCC volunteer