Smith River Delta, California

Our Subaru turns onto Mouth of Smith River Rd. “What a creative name!” I joke, “Oh, hello – I live on Mouth of Smith River! It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.” I have been anticipating this moment ever since Papa emailed me a checklist for the area a few weeks ago.

I click the link and my screen flicks over to an eBird checklist dated a few days previously. “Wow – 25 species!” I say, my eyes scanning the list of birds. I pause in the beginning and go back. “No way, FOUR Black-crowned Night Herons? We gotta go.” The individual had also seen a variety of egrets and herons as well as other long-legged birds. 

I have been trying to find Black-crowned Night Herons whenever I am in their habitat. Although Montana is home to many, I hope to have a better chance at finding them here. 

To be honest, the river wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned. Sand and algae strewn boulders extended out to the rushing waves, and cormorants sat huddled like a crowd of penguins. But the scenery wasn’t what attracted my attention, it was the people – or rather, person. She stands on the edge of the cliff, wrapped in a sarong and holding two sticks connected by string. Holding them up to catch the wind, a massive bubble expands and lets go, floating down towards the water. I busy myself in readying my camera and buckled up my vest. I can’t hear the conversation, but I got the gist of it after countless retellings. Apparently, the lady had just finished up when we pulled into the parking lot, she saw our Montana license plate and blew a couple more bubbles for our benefit. “This is the place where wishes will come true the fastest,” She assured us, after hearing about our goal.  Soon, I was ready to go and began to walk down the wooden steps, taking them two at a time. I get to the bottom and look across the strip of water where a gathering of sea lions lounged in the sun, accompanied by gulls and cormorants. A chunky bird leaps up, and my heart leaps with it, but it is a Green Heron. I am glad to see another, for the last time I saw one, it was just a quick glimpse in eastern Pennsylvania. This is Papa’s first Green Heron, and I congratulate him.

Overhead, a white bird glides over the sea lions, its black legs straight as pencils behind it. A massive yellow bill cleaves through the early morning air. I look up the bay and see more white egrets gliding towards us. They land and I notice two smaller egrets foraging in the squelchy mud. “Do they have yellow feet?” I cannot tell from this distance and yellow feet are the only way I know to tell the smaller egret species apart. Whatever color they are, their feet sink into the shallow mud before popping back out again. One flies away and I quickly take a picture. Zooming in on the bird’s feet, I can easily see they are yellow. New Species #1 – Snowy Egret. 

Turning away from the estuary, I focus on a trio of birds perched on a power line. Oh, yeah! I should probably mention the Smith River Estuary is pressed right up against houses and is only separated by a row of junipers. Seeing as I am not in possession of binos, I ask Papa to zoom in on the birds. Once he is looking at them, I begin to badger him with question after question after question. Most of them are along the lines of “do they have a band around their neck?” Although it might seem like a silly question, I am yearning to know. I must have gone too far because he hands the binos to me and begins talking with Mom. Looking through them, I can immediately tell they are some kind of pigeon. The Pacific Coast is home to a variety of them – the familiar Rock Pigeon, the Eurasian Collared-Dove, and the Mourning Dove, to name a few. I was not looking at any of these common species. In fact, I had never seen this species before. New Species #2 – Band-tailed Pigeon.

After scanning the coast for a while longer we turn around, only slightly disappointed. Why? I know I didn’t see what I was looking for, but I saw two new species and got some quality family time. What can be more important? We almost reached the steps when a pair of chunky birds flew over us and alights on the nearby rocks. My heart skips a beat for the second time today. New Species #3 – Black-crowned Night Heron. 

“Ohmygosh! It’s a night heron!” I exclaim, pointing to where they landed. If any bird looked the most like a dinosaur, these herons would win first place. Thick yellow legs support a heavy-duty body. Red eyes gleam next to a thick beak which is probably a crawdad’s worst nightmare. I watch in bewildered amazement as the herons inspect the rocks. Before long, it is time to go, and I dash up the steps. Pulling out from Mouth of Smith River Rd, I think maybe it isn’t such a silly name after all. Wait – actually, I stand by my earlier comment: the name isn’t smooth at all.