Elkhorn Slough Foundation volunteer Rick Fournier and the rest of our small flock of tour members stand under the bluest skies in weeks. Nearby tree limbs are swooning with the morning breeze’s caress when he abruptly turns away from a “birding gear and binoculars 101” discussion.

“Bird break!” his wife Cheryl shouts.

“What did he see?” I whisper.

“Nothing, he heard the call.”

“Townsend warbler,” Rick says, confirming with his binoculars as he heads to his vehicle. Seconds later: Rubber boots, notepad, binocs, scope and camera – check! – we set off behind our gung-ho guides into Moro Cojo Slough.

Over the last 20 years, Fournier’s love of nature and passion for birds has helped him hatch expert birding skills in the field. Between guiding monthly public bird walks at the Elkhorn Slough, and leading private birding tours through Monterey Birding Adventures, the intensely committed ESF supporter helps with one of the Foundation’s lesser known but most promising endeavors, the Moro Cojo Slough.

This 1,000-acre patch of current and former wetlands, which makes up an eighth of the Moro Cojo drainage basin, is an integral part of the larger 50,000-acre Elkhorn Slough watershed’s tapestry of wetlands (fresh and tidal), woodlands, and riparian feeders.

Like its larger siblings Elkhorn Slough to the north and the Salinas River to the south, Moro Cojo meets Monterey Bay at the Moss Landing Harbor. Major changes to this once prime saltwater marsh and adjoining freshwater wetlands began in the 1700s, when cattle first grazed the path for the invasion of non-native vegetation and disappearance of the larger native mammals. Subsequent man-made modifications to facilitate agriculture and industry further compromised the ecological benefits of Moro Cojo.

The tide was reversed in the 1990s when ESF purchased the parcel. It took another 10 years to pool the expertise necessary through the collaboration of multiple agencies, groups, and individuals – drawn locally and nationally – to kick off the restoration plan.

Along the meandering channel’s vigorous flow, the Highway 1 hum is muted by the cacophony of birds. The spongy ground molding around our boots becomes a portal into an unexpected realm. The focus shifts from power lines and other human imprints to the plumage of northern harriers and the aerobatics of white-tail kites. Swooping savannah sparrows, an elegant great egret and a duet of deer at the edge of the oak woodland compete for attention.

Intense chatter fills the air. “Resident and migrating males’ territory-staking songs while cruising for female mates announce spring long before the calendar,” Fournier explains.

“Listen to all the animated conversations,” he adds, tilting an ear. “Imagine you’ve walked into a room, your curiosity aroused by a new unfamiliar voice.”

Fournier is proud of Moro Cojo’s metamorphosis from a sad, barren plot into a vibrant bio-diverse habitat with seasonal characteristics. Mark Silberstein, the soft-spoken marine zoologist and director of the ESF (almost since its grass roots inception in 1982) charted the course for restoring and conserving the slough watershed. Some 3,600 acres of holdings later, ESF continues to create habitat, promote research and integrate recreation into this prized outdoor laboratory.

Silberstein explains that the topography and geology of the West’s coastal landscape leaves very few areas – and certainly undeveloped areas – with enough gradual gradient required for the watershed to help recharge the aquifer as quickly as the straws of use suck it up. Coastal wetlands and marshes are nature’s way to slow the flow so it can be absorbed and recharge the aquifer where underlying geology permits.

Wetland vegetation acts as a filtration processing system that helps reduce levels of chemicals and nutrients, like nitrates, flowing into the ocean – a serious impediment to the health of our marine life and the food chain.

“There is new, exciting evidence that tidal wetlands have the ability to act as effective warehouses for trapping and storing carbon dioxide blamed for the acceleration of climate change,” he says.

Silberstein highlights the slough section of the coastal railroad’s main line, which runs between Seattle and San Diego, to illustrate the coastal communities’ vulnerability to rising ocean levels, one of many ripple effects from global warming: “This span of tracks goes under water at the highest tides of the year.”

The research reserve employs 35 people and is one of only 27 such reserves around the country.

“Elkhorn Slough’s location is unique at the confluence of rare biological diversity, agriculture, development, sea and land,” Silberstein says. “When you add universities and institutions with a marine focus, all fueled by young inquisitive minds, this becomes a dynamic field laboratory and invaluable outdoor classroom for understanding and overcoming some of our most pressing challenges regarding water supply and climate change.” Moro Cojo presents a precious opportunity to observe nature’s potential, if given a chance, to effectively repair damage and contribute to the “green infrastructure” vital to sustaining life and human existence. Silberstein calls the thriving bird activity there one of the most “visible manifestations” of a system in the healing process.

MORO COJOIS closed to the public during its restoration, but Silberstein looks forward to unveiling 500 acres for access in the years ahead. ESF’s success depends on member support; for more visit www.elkhornslough.org