Bird Watching

Among naturalists, bird-watchers are odd ducks in that their amateur enthusiasm and participation are warmly welcomed by the scientific professionals in their field. "The study of birds, probably as much as any branch of science, is not only informed by, but almost dependent on, interested amateurs," said Kimball Garrett, ornithology collection manager at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. A case in point is 47-year-old Jon Fisher.

In this wetlands wonderland, winged creatures abound. Three black-crowned night-herons stand sentry behind tall grasses. A graceful snowy egret picks its way between coastal rocks while another flies low, nearly skimming the brackish water. A dozen black-necked stilts, their slim, tuxedoed bodies balanced on spindly scarlet legs, probe muddy islands with their long beaks. Nearby, about 15 brown pelicans flap in the water or tuck their pouched beaks under their wings for the night.

Not a twitch, not a swallow, not a stretch goes unnoticed. Around the country, eagle fanciers stay glued to their computer screens as the reintroduced bald eagles of Santa Cruz Island go about their daily lives before the unblinking eye of the EagleCam. From a law office in Franklin Square, N.Y., Deb Hansen -- Harpo516 to her peers -- gazes 3,000 miles to the west, with the eagles' Santa Cruz nest occupying at least a corner of her screen all day.

THE bald eagle is abundant in the backcountry of Alaska, Minnesota and other northern states, but you don't have to trek far to get a glimpse of our national symbol, which recently took wing from the endangered species list. Like many paparazzi-pursued icons, the bird of prey with the snowy white head has put down roots in Southern California, within a few minutes' drive of our crowded freeways and cookie-cutter developments.

Birds of a feather like to flock together, and so do bird-watchers. Birdingpal.org makes that happen by connecting bird lovers around the world. What's hot: You can sign up to become a birding pal or hook up with local enthusiasts where you are headed. You'll find info on where to go to find birds, local resources, birder-friendly lodgings and guides. What's not: The site is mostly lists and maps. Some of the lodgings and guiding listings seem self-promotional. -- vani.rangachar@latimes.com

AS we nudge the raft out into the surging current of the Skagit River, our guide, Jerry Michalec, challenges his six passengers to be the first to spot an eagle. "Sit anywhere on the thwarts or the side of the raft and look any direction," he suggests. "Just don't fall in the river." Not that anyone would want to risk that. For bald eagles, the Skagit is a comparatively balmy winter vacationland, but for humans, it's bundle-up territory where hand warmers are indispensable accessories.

"PALILA!" Rob Pacheco cried out in a voice most people reserve for "Hallelujah!" He slammed his giant, teal-colored truck to a halt on a gutted dirt road, 9,000 feet up the slopes of Mauna Kea on Hawaii's Big Island. We sprinted through a field of brown grass, Madagascar daisies and small trees. We were looking for the poster child of Hawaiian conservation, a yellow-headed, white-breasted finch that was among the first species covered by the original Endangered Species Act of 1973.

"DO you hear that?" Bob Shanman asks fervently as he leads a dozen bird-watchers toward a clump of shrubs in the Madrona Marsh Nature Preserve in Torrance. "That's them!" His followers, mostly middle-aged birding enthusiasts, rub the sleep out of their eyes as they traipse through one of Southern California's last vernal marshlands, a 50-acre enclosure of marshes and grasslands, ringed by urban sprawl.

The search for the elusive ivory-billed woodpecker in the swamps of Arkansas has ended for the season with no confirmed sighting, wildlife experts said Thursday, but they plan to start looking again in late autumn. The "Lord God bird" -- so-called because of the exclamation it prompted from those who first saw it -- was last officially seen in 1944.