Yellow Rails at Conboy? Bottom line; there weren't any which is NOT to be
confused with "there aren't any". There just weren't any detected while I
was there, day, or in the dead of night.

The Washington Ornithological Society held it's 13th convention / conference
at the Columbia Gorge (The Dalles, Oregon) this past weekend with the focus
on Klickitat Co. Thanks to Brian Bell for jogging my memory at the last
minute, thus on the spur of the moment I managed to take in the conference as
a last minute drop in registrant riding on gambling hopes that there MIGHT
still be room to join the Sa6/16 Conboy Lake NWR field trip. Phew! Success.
Joe Engler, USGS/FWS biologist for this lovely albeit rather out of the way
wetland prairie on the lower southeastern foothills of Mt. Adams, was our
perfect guide to the area. Conboy's hallmark is as one of the largest
remaining emergent marsh/wet meadow complexes in the Washington Cascades and
home for a small breeding population of Sandhill Cranes of which we were well
rewarded. Conboy is also one of only four known locations in Washington for
the Oregon Spotted Frog.

So, no Yellow Rails, and I wasn't too surprised or all that disappointed, but
I was keen to see an overview and assess how Conboy compares to the Klamath
'yellow rail' marshes in south-central Oregon. Actually, I'm not quite sure
how it might compare in terms of Yellow Rail potential. The suitable sedge
wetlands of Conboy are seasonal unlike and certainly no match to the vast and
permanently spring fed tracts found at Klamath. But for Conboy, there is
definitely room for potential which cannot be outright dismissed.

At best, suitable Yellow Rail habitat at Conboy is somewhat patchy. A lack
of a year round dependable and free flowing source of water may be a
compromising factor. Some years at Conboy may be better than others. This
one just happens to be an unusually dry one. An obstacle to even developing
or mitigating a source of more permanent free flowing water is the patchwork
nature of Conboy which is broken up by private (some hostile) land ownership
and resultant drainage.

After a day of birding Conboy in the sun and wind followed by the banquet and
most interesting slide illustrated key note address on Common Nighthawks by
US Forest Service biologist, Cathy Flick, I figured I was ready for bed.
....At least until I stepped outside and in a sudden burst of exhilaration,
found that the winds had subsided to a dead calm, it was balmy even, and at
10pm, it was almost dark. Hmmm... sleep or not to sleep? Irrationally
rationalizing the situation, I figured that if I'd come all this way and to
already be this close only to blow it in the bottom of the 9th by not even
trying, I'd never be able to live with myself the next day.

So, collect all my stuff, load up the car, leave the key in the room but the
door unlocked just in case I came back, then off to Conboy again at 11:30pm.
Armed with my first 20-oz cup of coffee at the start, then a refill at White
Salmon enroute, I was good to go for the night. I went straight away to the
one most promising looking spot which we had visited during the morning in
the extreme southwest corner of the refuge complex off BZ Corner - Glenwood
Road, and north 1.3 miles on Laurel Rd (DeLorme p25, T5N, R11E, Sect 12). At
the moment, this may to be the best area at Conboy which appears most
reminiscent of the Fort Klamath and Silver Lake Road portions of the Klamath,
Oregon marshes where perhaps as many as 50 Yellow Rails were heard in June
2000. It is also a privately owned parcel, of which the land owners here are
reportedly especially 'hostile' and distrusting, so wandering off on foot
there is strictly off limits as is most of the refuge which might otherwise
disturb the cranes.

In the peak of darkness, 0030-0130hrs, I walked the adjacent section of road
a few times with just the stars for light under the prominent darkened snow
capped sky piercing backdrop of Mt. Adams, stopping to listen, and
occasionally tapping my favorite little 'yellow rail rocks' in hopes of a
response to which only Sora and Virgina Rails answered the call.

The next couple of hours were spent wandering the roads stopping to listen at
some other roadside sedgy marsh areas seen earlier in the day and some areas
on the far east and northeast side that I knew nothing about but which looked
on the map worth a blind poke in the dark of night. What I least expected in
the middle of the night in an area as remote as this was all the extraneous
noise and traffic. Traffic all night long. Cars running around everywhere,
frequent pickups towing horsetrailers, and an incredible racket and music
blaring from the tiny town of Glenwood (population: not many) that carried
across the marsh. I made one pass through Glenwood just after 2am and in
what would otherwise seem like the most unlikely of places, found myself
engulfed in a snarl of traffic, humanity, and gridlock which by per capita
comparison would make rush hour in Seattle seem like a walk in the park.
Prom night plus a high school reunion of sorts for ALL classes of the 1980's!

By 3am, the first vague hint of daylight was appearing on the NE horizon and
I returned to Conboy's southwest corner on Laurel Road where I dozed off for
an hour or so with the windows down so that I could be hopefully awakened by
anything (including a Yellow Rail) that cared to make a noise. Nothing of
course, until about 4-5am when a few Soras kicked off the dawn chorus amongst
Eastern Kingbirds, Red-winged Blackbirds, Common Yellowthroats, and winnowing
Common Snipe. As the pink alpine glow dawned on Mt. Adams, a Pygmy Owl
tooted incessantly from the forest edge, Wood Ducks squealed around the
marsh, and the resonating bugle of the Sandhill Cranes echoed off the
hillsides making their numbers sound like more than there really were.
Thankfully gone was all the night traffic and noise of humanity that rang
through this rather strange night in rural Klickitat County, and Glenwood had
been transformed into a sleepy almost ghost town with the only signs that
something had happened there only a few hours earlier, the graduation class
graffiti painted streets and roads leading into and out of town.

So with regard to Yellow Rails, yes indeed, there IS potential at Conboy, and
for anyone venturing off to bird and explore around Conboy in the spring and
early summer, keep a mind and ear tuned for any little incessant insect-like
ticking which might otherwise be tuned out or dismissed as background noise
while exploring or looking at something else. It may not happen, it may
never happen, and in Washington, a breeding locale is unprecedented. But
strange things happen, and if Oregon's Klamath is used as a standard for
comparison, then Conboy may just be Washington's most likely candidate locale
for someone someday to discover the elusive Yellow Rail.

****************************************************
Richard Rowlett
Bellevue (Eastgate), WA, USA

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