The streets where I live are named for California birds: Heron, Gull, Osprey, Loon, Kittiwake and, in my case, Pelican. When asked if I ever see real pelicans on their namesake block, I am delighted to say “Yes!” From early summer into fall, briefs–—also called squadrons, pods and scoops—of Brown Pelicans glide majestically overhead.
Of the earth’s eight species of pelicans, two—the larger, stockier Whites and the smaller, sleeker Browns—reside in North America. The snowy, orange-beaked, highly social Whites nest mainly in colonies on inland lakes and rivers. However, some spend time in Bodega Harbor during migration and winter periods. They often hunt cooperatively, encircling their prey and gulping small fish into their mouths.
Brown Pelicans are true seabirds, soaring above the Pacific from Mexico to Canada on wings that can extend to seven feet. Dapper in gray/brown feathers with yellowish and white accents, they flash deep red patches on their pouches during breeding season. As they preen on offshore rocks, the massive birds look vaguely prehistoric—with good reason. Their ancestors date back 30 to 40 million years.
When hunting Brown Pelicans often fly in precise military V-formations, like World War II bombers on a mission. Then, in a split second, one of them will spin into a breath-taking, razzle-dazzling maneuver that a fighter pilot might envy.
From sixty feet on high, a feathered aviator, keen eyes zeroing on fish just below the waves, nose-dives into the sea. Its mighty U-shaped lower jaw opens and broadens to engulf small fish, along with several gallons of water that fill the stretchy pouch called a “gular sac.”
To drain the catch, the pelican slowly lifts its head with jaws slightly parted so excess water flows out the sides of its bill. Then, with a quick toss, the bird downs its dinner. This uncanny skill inspired a famous limerick: “A wonderful bird is the Pelican / His bill will hold more than his belican”–and prompted the author to ponder “how the helican.”
After thriving for millions of years, Brown Pelicans nesting on Southern California islands were pushed to the brink of extinction in the 1950s and 1960s. DDT, effluents from a manufacturing plant and other chemicals had seeped into the sea—and the fish that pelicans ate. The toxins altered the way the birds metabolized calcium. The shells of their eggs, which pelican parents protect under the skin of their webbed feet, became too fragile to withstand the weight.
After DDT was widely banned, Brown Pelicans rebounded. In 2009 they were removed from the endangered species list. But they’ve since faced new threats. This Spring domoic acid, a neurotoxin produced by a harmful algae bloom, caused seizures, paralysis and fatal brain damage in the Brown Pelican colony in the Channel Islands. In Northern California, seabird rescue centers have treated hundreds of cold, dazed and emaciated pelicans. Although not infected by a toxin or disease, they were starving to death, possibly because of disruptions to their food supply by weather and climate change. (To learn more or contribute to rescue efforts, go to International Bird Rescue.)
Aware of their vulnerability and their resilience, I savor the sight of my high-flying, speed-diving neighbors as they surf the winds and race toward the sun. The sky, the sea and the souls of all who watch and wonder would be far emptier without them.
