THE WILDS OF MORRO BAY ESTUARY IS HAVEN FOR HUNDREDS OF SEA BIRDS, AND A KAYAK GLIDES QUIETLY AMONG THEM.

Byline: Eric Noland Travel Editor

MORRO BAY - The black-necked birds were clustered together at the water's edge, honking quietly in such low tones that from a distance it sounded like human muttering.

Deciding to get a slightly closer look, I turned the bow of my kayak in their direction and took two paddle strokes. Though I was still 100 or so yards from them, that single motion was the trigger. In an instant, this flock of migratory geese was aloft. They beat the air with their wings and raised a ruckus with their cries as they relocated to an area of shoreline a short distance away.

It turns out these were brant geese, which reside in Alaska during the summer months but head south when the temperatures fall, ultimately settling down in the shallow, 2,300-acre estuary that spreads out behind Morro Rock. They winter here, feeding in the eel grass beds. And the reason the brants are so nervous is because they are a favorite target of hunters, even those who stalk the birds in early winter during a controversial one- month hunting window right here in Morro Bay.

Their behavior cycle is one of hundreds of wildlife stories to be observed and examined in the estuary, an environment where freshwater creeks meet the surging ocean to form a complex world of tidal wetlands, mud flats and sand dunes. It is home to elephant seals, otters and enough species of sea and shorebirds to confound even the most avid bird-watchers.

A kayak is an ideal mode for exploring their world. You can rent one - a single or double, beginner or advanced - from an outfitter along the Morro Bay Embarcadero, then paddle around in the bay according to your comfort level. As long as you keep a reasonable distance, the wildlife will likely pay you little heed. The kayak glides noiselessly through their world, and its shallow draft will enable you to explore waters that are barely more than a foot deep.

``For the most part, kayakers and canoers are relatively benign,'' said Mike Multari, director of the Morro Bay National Estuary Program. ``Particularly in the fore-bay area, closer to the harbor mouth, their impact on the environment is pretty minimal. The only concern we have with kayakers is that some people are not familiar with wildlife in relatively wild areas. There is a temptation to get a close look. You have to respect the animals.''

This includes seals that haul themselves out of the water to rest on the shore. Or birds that are roosting, nesting or foraging.

Given the pace of coastal development over the past half-century, this fragile world is fairly unique. Multari noted: ``There are hardly any shallow lagoon bays like Morro Bay left in California. It is the only significant one between Monterey and Carpinteria.''

A kayak expedition can be a pleasant antidote to Morro Bay's touristy waterfront with its shell necklaces, seascapes in paint-by-number oil, and fish and chips that settle in your stomach like an anchor. One of the best times for getting out on the water has just begun - autumn, when the heavy fog of summer gives way to clear days but the wind and swells are relatively mild.

As part of the excursion, it's also fun to pull the kayak onto the sprawling sand spit that serves as a four-mile arm of protection for the estuary. There is no road access to the beach that fronts the Pacific on the other side, and it's one of the most unspoiled you'll find in California. Be sure to bring along a picnic lunch.

If you're unaccustomed to kayaking, you'll want to get a thorough orientation before setting out. Bob Reed, a former Coast Guardsman who has been operating Kayak Horizons on the bay for the past seven years, noted that a lot of people incorrectly assume kayaking is an ``arm'' sport. He demonstrated that you should instead put your entire upper body into it, twisting your torso with every stroke, in order to minimize fatigue.

He set me up in a touring single ($25 for a half day). Mercifully, it had a rudder pedal for each foot in the tip of the bow, enabling you to steer with your feet and paddle solely for locomotion.

A few other tips: Wear beachwear, something you don't mind getting a little wet and sandy. Wear sunscreen, sunglasses and a hat, because the reflection off the water can be extreme at times. Wear or pack a fleece top for warmth; that fabric dries at a remarkably fast rate. Take along a disposable camera rather than your good one, ideally in a fanny pack. Keep a water bottle handy (not in the waterproof bag that is lashed to the back of the kayak). And visit the restroom before you set out.

Once out on the water, if you pause to take a picture or dig out a water bottle or bottle of sunscreen, loop an arm around your paddle and hold it securely. I never lost mine, but nearly did a couple of times. If you lose it, you have to retrieve it by paddling by hand, and if the current is pulling, that could be tricky. You certainly don't want to be up Chorro Creek without one.

Lastly, make sure you pick up a laminated bird-identification card from the outfitter and secure it under the nylon lashings directly in front of you. You'll find that you consult it often.

I paddled around the bay on consecutive days in early January. The conditions are a little rougher at that time of year, but the payoff is considerable: It is the height of the birds' migratory and wintering season.

Unless you're an experienced birder, you're going to have trouble with definitive identifications, even with an ID chart. Some of the distinctions between species are maddeningly slight.

Is that a long-billed dowitcher or a marbled godwit? A bufflehead or a common goldeneye?

After awhile, you might want to stop wrestling with the card and simply enjoy the show. I watched as a white, long-beaked something plunged into the water just off my bow from about 30 feet up (a tern? maybe a kingfisher?) and scored a direct hit, emerging with a small fish in its beak.

A startlingly white snowy egret stepped gingerly through the shallows of the sand spit.

A brown pelican - enormous! - stood at the edge of the mud flat, utterly unconcerned as the kayak drifted quietly past.

White pelicans rested on a grassy island that appears only at low tide. Don't be surprised if you see them queue up in a precise line; they commonly herd fish into shallows.

A flock of small, light-brown birds (least sandpipers? semipalmated plovers?) amassed at the water's edge, pecking at the ground with their beaks, raising a cacophony that sounded like chicks in a hatchery. Then, as if on some silent signal, the entire flock took off, made a few tight-formation passes over the water, then returned to the water's edge and resumed the pecking activity as if nothing had happened.

At another spot, it appeared there were two or three ducks splashing together. No. It turned out to be an otter, floating on its back, slightly submerged. As it passed the kayak, its face bore a perplexed expression.

It's a wondrous world. Harold Wieman captured it in his booklet, ``Estuary'' ($6.95 at the Museum of Natural History, which perches above the bay on its eastern edge). Wieman, a former city recreation director in San Bernardino who escaped Southern California's sprawl when he and his wife retired here in 1967, was kind of a kayaking pioneer on the bay.

Now 84, he doesn't get out on the water anymore, but the estuary remains a source of wonder. ``What attracted us,'' he said, ``is that it goes through many, many changes through the course of the day, depending on how deep the water is. Then, when the water's out (at low tide), you can see a tremendous amount of life on the mud. You really get a feeling for the full cycle of life.''

If you're unwary out on the bay, you can get a sense of its mercurial nature, too. I set out one day under sunny skies in calm water. One hour later, the sky grew dark as dusk, the clouds opened up and a furious downpour drenched me in minutes. Then a chilly wind came up, kicking up swells and whitecaps, making for a wobbly, bobbing ride back to the dock.

The next day, the bay experienced its highest and lowest tides of the year. In the afternoon, as I paddled into an area just north of the town of Baywood Park, I noticed some birds floating on the surface of the water a short distance off. Or so I thought. Turns out they weren't floating at all; they were standing! In about two inches of water. Low tide was coming on. In a hurry.

About that time, my right-side paddle bumped the bottom. Then the hull lightly scraped it. I turned and paddled for all I was worth toward the narrow, subtidal channel that courses through the exact center of the estuary. The paddle tips still occasionally struck the mud flat, now only several inches below the surface. Imagine getting beached out here, forced to drag the kayak toward the deeper water, likely sinking knee-deep in the ooze with every step.

Upon reaching the channel, there was another - and opposite - issue to contend with. When the bay is in a cycle of very high and low tides, its contents will drain toward the ocean like a full bathtub when the stopper is pulled. The speed of the current when I reached the narrow chunk of wharf in front of Kayak Horizons was a brisk 1 1/4 knots. It's a good idea to hang on tightly once you get your hands on a cleat.

The experiences underscored the necessity of getting a thorough rundown on the conditions before setting out. Reed had warned me of the impending storm on the first day, and of the tides and current on both days, but an actual encounter can still be a revelation.

``I want people to be aware so they don't get out there and get wiped out,'' he said. ``Each and every time it's different.''

The same could be said of the estuary itself. It is a carefully monitored resource, and its water quality and habitat are in excellent condition, according to Multari, but it is under a number of threats.

Chief among them is rapid sedimentation. Laymen's terms: It's slowly filling in with dirt, the result of runoff from grazing, agriculture and development along the creeks that feed it. Inland wildfires a few years ago were followed by El Nino rain, and on came the mud.

``We're doing a lot to retard the sedimentation,'' Multari said, ``building sediment traps in watershed so we can stop it before it gets to the bay.''

He added: ``Some argue that we should let the natural process turn it into a meadow over the next 100-200 years. But we're not letting other lagoons naturally develop in other areas of the coast.''

Thus, when the brant geese head south from Alaska in search of a wintering ground, they can scan the terrain from Humboldt Bay in Northern California all the way to Mexico's Baja peninsula and find exactly one shallow lagoon bay in which to set down. It's here. The only option.

No wonder they seemed so jittery that day.

IF YOU GO

GETTING THERE: Morro Bay lies 214 miles north of downtown Los Angeles via Highways 101 and 1.

KAYAK RENTALS: Kayak Horizons, at 551 Embarcadero, was found to be a very professionally run outfitter, and extremely visitor-friendly. (When a first day's excursion was cut short by a downpour, owner Bob Reed said, ``Just come back tomorrow, and we'll figure out the rate then.'' With no assurances that I'd return, he wouldn't even take a credit card imprint.) Kayak rentals start at $8 an hour. Half-day rates: $19 (basic single), $25 (touring single), $32 (touring double), $35 (fiberglass). Information: [phone].

Another outfitter is Canoe 2 You/Morro Bay Charters, at 699 Embarcadero, No. 9. Its kayak rental rates start at $8 per hour. The company also offers guided boat tours of the estuary. Information: [phone].

INFORMATION: For general tourism information on Morro Bay, contact its chamber of commerce at [phone]; www.morrobay.org. For information on the Central Coast area in general, contact the San Luis Obispo chamber at [phone]; www.visitslo.com.

Out of the water, plenty to see

BAYWOOD PARK - Those who aren't at all comfortable with the idea of paddling a plastic shell around Morro Bay - and risking a dunking in the brackish waters - can still survey the estuary's edges on dry land.

El Moro Elfin Forest Natural Area, accessible from the northern terminus of 16th Street in Baywood Park, features nearly a mile of boardwalks through the bluff above the estuary, plus two overlook points (the boardwalk is wheelchair-accessible). It also has sand trails that wind along the edge of the estuary below the bluff.

The sand spit that shelters the bay can be reached on foot, too, from its southern end. From Baywood Park, follow Pecho Road toward Montana de Oro State Park and look for a short road that leads down to a parking lot at the dunes. Be advised, however, that it is a long, punishing hike through soft sand if you want to traverse the entire spit.

The Museum of Natural History, which lies just south of the Morro Bay Embarcadero on State Park Road, has picture windows that overlook the estuary, as well as exhibits about the central coast's natural world. Admission is $2; there is no charge for children ages 15 and under.

- Eric Noland

CAPTION(S):

6 photos, 2 boxes

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) On a kayak excursion in Morro Bay, it's possible to observe scores of sea and shorebirds. The estuary, which spreads out behind distinctive Morro Rock, provides habitat for a wide range of creatures.

(3) Nervois brant geese take flight when spooked by a kayak on Morro Bay. The geese fly south from Alaska to winter in the Central Coast estuary.

(4 -- 5) Two-person kayaks, above, are available for rent in Morro Bay, for bird watchers, the sports-minded, or those wishing to picnic on the sand spit, below, protecting the bay.

(6) Visitors who prefer to stay dry at Morro Bay may still explore the estuary's fringes via boardwalks on the bluff.

Eric Noland/Staff Photographer

Box:

(1) IF YOU GO (see text)

(2) Out of the water, plenty to see (see text)