The sky, clear at the airport, began to fill with approaching cirrus clouds, portending a storm. Although the weather continued to worsen, the next 12 hours passed without incident. When she was 19 hours out of Hanalei, the west winds increased their velocity, and a heavy rain began to fall. The aviator could feel the unceasing push of the west winds. Mindful of their effect on her course, she made a flight path correction, to the northwest. Despite this, the pounding rain and gale force winds conspired to force her ever eastward - further and further off course.

Eighty hours out

Eighty hours out of Hanalei, she finally glimpsed land. She was cold, tired, and low on fuel. She approached the coastline, noting the details of the landscape. Suddenly she was seized by a thought: I don’t recognize this place. I’ve never been here. Where am I? But she could afford little time to ponder such a question. First priority was to land and refuel. She reduced her altitude, nearly colliding with a tall, two-legged creature. Startled, she wheeled, finally alighting upon a steep sandy beach. She searched her memory for a recollection of the tall one. Yes, she’d seen several of his kind for the first time several days ago - at the airport. As she studied him, he gestured wildly to his companions. The strong winds nearly obliterated his voice but the exhausted shorebird heard the creature shout, "Look! That one has a cinnamon rump!..." Thus began an event none of us are likely to ever witness again: a fallout of Bristle-thighed Curlews along the Washington, Oregon, and northern California coast.

Air of mystery

An air of mystery surrounds this species. We’ve known something of the winter distribution of Bristle-thighed Curlews for quite some time, as the species was first described to science in 1785 by a naturalist aboard Captain Cook’s ship while in Tahiti. However, 163 years later, this enigmatic shorebird was the lone species in North America whose breeding location remained a mystery. Then, in 1948, Cornell University, the Arctic Institute of North America, and the National Geographic Society sponsored an expedition to Alaska. Near a remote lake at the mouth of the Yukon, a nest with four eggs was located, and headlines ‘round the world proclaimed: 163-Year Search Ends in Alaska. In order to preserve a relatively intact eggshell, expedition leader Arthur A. Allen incubated the egg with the help of a sleeping bag until the chick hatched - after which it was promptly returned to the mother.

The geographic scope of the Bristle-thighed Curlews’s migration is truly amazing: from Tahiti to Hawaii to Alaska, across 5,500 miles of open ocean. This migration route - far from any continental land mass - ad resulted in but a single accepted record of this species in North America outside of Alaska: May 30-31, 1969 at Grant Bay, British Columbia. Clearly, an unprecedented meteorological event would be required in order to push the birds toward us here on the west coast. During late April 1998, we experienced just such an event, courtesy of an immense low-pressure system that formed - and then stalled - off the coast of southern Oregon. Beginning in late April, Alaskan-bound curlews flew directly into this low-pressure cell, with its strong westerly air flow.

Message to bird chat

On May 6, Dave Lauten posted an Internet message to an Oregon bird chat group that he and Kathy Castelein had possibly seen a Bristle-thighed Curlew at Floras Lake, near New River in Curry County. Two days later two individuals were discovered at Point Brown Jetty at Grays Harbor, Washington. The next day, two were detected at the South Jetty of the Columbia River.

Then, on May 14th, the local bombshell went off... Alan Barron called the Arcata bird box to report that he’d found a Bristle-thighed Curlew near the Battery Point lighthouse in Crescent City. Two days later, yet another was found at Point Reyes (Kehoe Beach) in Marin County. Experts believe that the number of birds seen between Ocean Shores, Washington, and Point Reyes, California numbered at least 15.

Hydrologists speak in terms of a flood event that occurs once in 50 or 100 years: a 50 or 100-year flood. What we witnessed last year was without precedent: something analogous to a 200-year event. Clearly, the event wasn’t a ‘once in a lifetime’ experience - more like once in several lifetimes. Realizing this, I feel all the more privileged to have experienced Alan’s bird in Crescent City.

Words first spoken

The words first spoken by Dr Arthur A. Allen still resonate today, "Why these curlews should want to leave the warm, luxurious shores of Tahiti and the other South Sea islands, fly 5,500 miles over the open sea, and arrive at one of the most forlorn stretches of tundra in North America, deserted by all other birds and still largely covered by snow, just to lay four eggs, is hard to understand."

The arduous, epic migration undertaken by the Bristle-thighed Curlew is truly awe-inspiring. Perhaps it is best understood in terms of the genetic prime directive: life hears no calling as inexorable as procreation. That these birds cover such great distances - twice a year - is nothing short of a miracle. To live here on this Pacific Rim, and to have witnessed such an event, has made our lives all the richer.

Tom Leskiw

February 10, 1999