So, what did I learn from this all night vigil at Klamath Marsh and the 2-1/2
hour intimate episode in Yellow Rail land? I may not have been up to my
eyeballs in Yellow Rails, but most certainly I was up to my earbones.

(1) There's a lot of Yellow Rails out there. From the road, I'd guess one
can hear perhaps but a fraction of the total, even if there were actually
50-70+ individuals audible from the Silver Lake Road between mp 4 and 5.8,
there are probably a lot more scattered throughout that same unbroken marsh
of knee high grass and sedge and ankle deep water that extends southward 2-3
miles. As of 1992, about 1,620 ha (10.5%) of the 15,380 ha Klamath Marsh NWR
was estimated as suitable habitat for Yellow Rails (Bookhout, 1995).

(2) The calls carry a deceptively long distance and are quite ventriliqual.
I can't say for sure, but I don't think there were any birds at all near the
road. Even if one initially sounds like it is only a few feet away, it
probably isn't, rather and more likely a good 100 - 200 meters straight out
in the marsh where the really good habitat starts. The seemingly good
looking habitat within 100 meters of the road along there is perhaps not so
good on closer inspection; shorter grass / sedge, damp, little standing
water, but otherwise relatively dry. On a good calm night such as June 3-4,
I suspect that most of the Yellow Rails I was hearing were in fact 200 to
500+ meters away, maybe up to 1 km. Remember, you're only hearing the long
range carrying "tick-tick, tick-tick-tick" while any heavier detail and tone
has been long distantly filtered and muffled out in the vast expanse of dense
marsh grass between the calling bird and the listener on the road.

(3) Up close and (almost) personal, I discovered a surprising variation in
'clicker' calls from one bird to the next in pitch, tone, and cadence. Most
gave the rapid repetitive 'two-note, three-note' ticker or clicker call at a
uniform tone and cadence. A few birds occasionally alternated the 'two-note,
three-note' call with 'two-note, four-notes' and even 'two-notes, two-notes'.
From at least one bird, the second 'tick' in the first two-note portion of
the 'two-note, three-note' ticker call was distinctively and consistently
lower in pitch. Given the deceptive ventriliqual nature and long distant
carrying capacity of the ticker calls, zeroing in on a calling bird seemed to
work best by cupping my ears after every few steps and swinging my head from
side to side until I was focused toward the maximum volume. By the time the
distance has been closed to within a few feet, then cupping the ears,
swinging from side to side as well as up and down zeros you directly at the
calling source.

(4) Individual territories seemed to be fairly large despite the sensation
that the marsh as heard from the road seems to team with birds "crackling"
all over the place. Out in the heartland amongst all those Yellow Rails, I
sensed that individual birds or territories were spaced perhaps 100 to 200
meters apart, but perhaps as little as 50 meters in some spots and given the
fact that all the Yellow Rails out there weren't necessarily calling all at
once or all the time. I'm not sure what this might translate out to in
actual area as per hectares (ha), the standard unit of measure used in these
matters; I'm no math wizard here, nor even how accurate my superficial
spacing estimate of calling birds may in fact be. At Seney NWR, Michigan,
for example, territories of singing males ranged from 2.3 to 10.5 ha,
averaging 7.8 (Bookhout, 1995) which sounds quite huge to me.

(5) Optimal habitat seems to be fairly consistent; very dense knee deep
mixed spike grass / sedge in ankle deep water of 7-10cm depth with a reliable
permanent source of standing, seeping, or running clear spring water.

(6) Based just solely on this one-night experience, and although I dare not
suggest that I have any more than a fraction of the answers, I may have in
fact encountered a 'peak' performance and during the most optimal of
environmental conditions. Thus, maximum activity may be at it's peak in
early June, on clear windless nights, totally dark, no moon, and in the
absolute dark of night between 10pm and 2am. A calm warm day previous may
offer further inspiration as well.

(7) The YELLOW RAIL is an enigma, a phantom, arguably the most reclusive and
elusive bird species in North America by virtue of it's deep, rich, rank
habitat, thus much more so than even the Black Rail. Perhaps the Yellow Rail
as North America's champion skulker is a bird that is just plain not meant to
be seen and since it is so shrouded in such mystique and intrigue, should
remain that way. A tight reign on personal ethics would prohibit me or
anyone else I'd hope, from launching any intrusive if not outright
detrimental assault on the Yellow Rail, especially during the breeding
period, just for the sake of seeing one which holds high likelihood of being
no more than a fleeting glimpse at best. Such prohibitive actions include
but not limited to a line march with a horde of birders, dragging the marsh
with a cable, or the use of dogs.

On the other hand, I can't help but be hold in awe those biologists who have
over the years conducted successful studies of such a seemingly enigmatic
impossible challenging bird as the Yellow Rail and *do* succeed in actually
capturing, banding, radio tagging, tracking, and finding nests. The Yellow
Rail in Oregon was only first discovered summering in Klamath country in 1978
and breeding there in 1982, although I'd bet they've been there all along and
likely a familiar sound, if not sight, to the Klamath Indians who occupied
these marsh and forest lands for centuries before.

So, what's all this insanity been leading up to?

Well..., WASHINGTON of course! Do I think that there may be an unknown and
as yet undiscovered pocket, or two, or a few, summering Yellow Rails in the
state of Washington? Hmmm..., well, I wouldn't be surprised, especially now.
Now that I've grown somewhat intimately familiar with what I perceive as the
optimal habitat requirements, timing, and environmental conditions, I just
have to figure out where to look in Washington. I think if I were to start
anywhere, I'd head for the Crab Creek drainage, Potholes, and Coulee country
of the central Columbia Basin. There certainly is no significant barrier
between the Klamath Basin and the Columbia Basin that should block a
Washington presence. Indeed, habitat though nowhere nearly as vast or
extensive as that in the Klamath can be found in pockets in these Columbia
Basin areas. It's been several years since I last wandered around the
Potholes but I do recall entertaining thoughts of Yellow Rails way back then.
Armed now with fresh new first hand knowledge, in addition to a just now
augmenting bit of reading research, I just need to take another and closer
look if for nothing else just to snuff this all consuming manic fascination
for a while. See the ugly downside here? ...and what 30 years of a life on
the ocean can do to someone? It ain't pretty! :-))

Who would have ever thought only a few years ago that Black-throated Sparrows
and Tri-colored Blackbirds would have become a part of Washington's
ornithological landscape in the central Columbia Basin? Those species were
obvious although perhaps recent arrivals, were bound to be discovered sooner
or later. But something as reclusive and secretive, not to mention very much
nocturnal as the Yellow Rail out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of
the night in the central Columbia Basin? Has anyone at all really seriously
searched? Perhaps in far eastern Washington, central Pend Oreille County
comes to mind, and some areas southwest of Spokane might be worth a little
closer inspection as well.

There are only two previous records for Yellow Rail in Washington. One
specimen was shot on the Skagit River Flats, 16 Nov 1935 (Jewitt, et.al.,
Birds of Washington State. p.238) and one seen at Herman Slough northwest of
Othello, 30 Apr 1969 (Washington Birds 5, 1996, p.10). The latter is
perfect; timing and location right in the middle of the 'Potholes'. However,
there's been a lot of water over the dam so to speak since 1969, so I don't
know how land management changes may have impacted or altered this and
similar areas in the years subsequent. I guess I'll just have to go over
there, poke around, and find out. Stay tuned. [note to self: watch out for
rattlesnakes]

Finally, Frank Mayer and I wondered out loud while at Jack Spring how it ever
came to be that anyone ever finally associated that incessant insect-like
'ticker' call with the Yellow Rail at all. Well, I found the answer to that
(I think) in Bent's "Life Histories of North American Marsh Birds (Dover
Edition, 1963), p322, stating that a J. H. Ames "positively identified the
notes of the yellow rail from a bird he had in captivity" in 1902.

The Yellow Rail section in 'Bent' makes for some most interesting reading,
provoking thought and reflection on America a century or two ago. Another
good source and more recent, is found in "The Birds of North America"
accounts series published bimonthly by the AOU and The Academy of Natural
Sciences. Citation:

Bookhout, T. A. 1995. Yellow Rail (_Coturnicops noveboracensis_). 'In' The
Birds of North America, No. 139 (A. Poole and F. Gill, eds.). The Academy of
Natural Sciences, Philadelphia, and the American Ornithologists' Union,
Washington, D.C.
(limited copies available at "Flora & Fauna" in Pioneer Square for $9.00)

....and specific to Oregon, which may also offer some more insight, hope, or
'dash it all' otherwise for Washington as soon as I get my hands on it:

Stern, M. A., J. F. Morawski, and G. A. Rosenberg. 1993. Rediscovery and
status of a disjunct population of breeding Yellow Rails in southern Oregon.
Condor 95: 1024-1027.

Well..., it's a start :-))

****************************************************
Richard Rowlett (Pterodroma at aol.com)
47.56N, 122.13W
Bellevue (Eastgate), WA, USA

"Discovery consists of seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what
nobody has thought" --Albert Szent-Gyorgi (1893-1986).
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