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As ̽����ѡ California celebrates 30 years as a state office, we’re reflecting on the milestones that shaped our work, the partnerships that made them possible, and the legacy of conservation that stretches far beyond the past three decades.

Few people are better positioned to help tell that story than Andrea Jones, Vice President of ̽����ѡ for California. Over her 20 years with ̽����ѡ, Andrea has helped advance several major conservation successes across the state. We recently spoke with Andrea about some of the work she is most proud of and what gives her hope for the future.

As ̽����ѡ California turns 30, what are you feeling most proud of?

Honestly, I realized after reading through our timeline that I had forgotten so many big wins that we’ve achieved over the years! It’s hard to pick just a few. Top of mind are some of the big projects with lasting impacts, like Owens Lake, the Salton Sea, the lead ban to save California Condors, and our amazing youth leadership programs—as well as how much our conservation work has evolved since I started in 2006.

We were a much smaller state program then. We had a small policy shop and we didn’t yet have the kind of statewide science expertise we have today with Geospatial Science capacity, or the level of bird expertise we have now. A lot of our focus was on our centers and sanctuaries, with less on-the-ground programs and community engagement around the state.

We’ve really grown to meet the environmental challenges we face today, including climate change, and we’ve diversified both what we do and who we work with. Policy work has always been incredibly important and it remains a core part, and now we’re also doing more community-based conservation—in the deserts in Southern California, in San Francisco Bay, in the Central Valley. We have staff and strong partnerships in these places. We’re engaging on the ground with communities.

And we’re doing tons more great science, more partnerships with private landowners, and more landscape-specific work where birds and communities are experiencing change on the ground.

You mention climate change, which we know is the greatest challenge facing birds right now, along with biodiversity loss. How has our work evolved to tackle that dual crisis?

Climate resilience has always been a major priority, and we remain deeply committed to it. You can see that in so many places—in our work to restore wetlands and coastal habitats, such as our tidal marsh restoration project at Sonoma Creek in partnership with San Pablo Bay National Wildlife Refuge, eelgrass restoration in Richardson Bay, and partnerships with working lands through programs like BirdReturns, providing habitat for birds in places where it’s disappeared, especially during periods of severe drought.

And you can see it in our advocacy to help California prepare for a hotter, drier, and more unpredictable future—including our support for Proposition 4, the 2024 $10 billion climate bond.

That’s really exciting to me. We’re not just responding to climate impacts after they happen; we’re working with partners across the state to protect the habitats birds and people need now while proactively building a more resilient future.

You’ve said Owens Lake is one of the projects you are most proud of. Why does that stand out?

I hadn’t been in California very long when I found myself in the middle of a major controversy with one of the biggest water powers in the state, the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. It was a complicated, difficult issue, and it required bringing together people who didn’t necessarily want to sit at the same table, to get them to agree on a future for Owens Lake that works for everyone. And we did it. We came up with a lasting plan that balanced bird habitat, water conservation, and public access. But it was really, really hard work!

There were moments when I felt like I was sailing uncharted and turbulent waters. Dan Taylor, ̽����ѡ California’s Policy director at the time, was backing me up, and the local ̽����ѡ chapter () was deeply involved, but it was often just three of us out there together handling negotiations to support birds—just two chapter volunteers and me.

I still remember one especially pivotal meeting with DWP leadership at an old steakhouse in Burbank. It felt like a scene from a movie—dark inside, red vinyl seats, the kind of place where you could imagine a lot of deals had been made over the years. It was just me, Dan Taylor, and two LADWP leaders.

It was surreal, and it also felt like a real turning point—one of those situations where you feel like the work could really change something for the better. We talked about football and families, and then we got down to business. Eventually, they said, “Tell us what ̽����ѡ wants.” So I laid it out for Owens Lake. Not long after that, an agreement arrived by FedEx. I’ll never forget driving home that day, full of adrenaline, thinking, “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Now Owens Lake is a place where dust control, water management, and habitat planning for birds are all part of the conversation. The fact that birds are part of that future is something I am very proud that we did together.

Tejon Ranch is another major conservation milestone. What does that story represent to you?

is a big one, and I think it is sometimes easy to forget how significant that agreement was.

̽����ѡ was one of the original conservation organizations involved in the agreement to protect much of Tejon Ranch from development. It is the largest private landholding in California and one of the biggest in the West, so the scale alone is enormous. It’s also Condor country, which I’ve seen out there, along with so many other rare birds.

One of the moments that stayed with me is from one of our early bird surveys after the conservation plan was in place. Birders hadn’t been out there much yet, so we didn’t fully know what to expect. We started doing big spring birding days in April and breeding bird surveys in May and June.

On one June morning, a group of us drove out to one of the canyons on the Antelope Valley side of the ranch, where the landscape shifts from desert and Joshua trees into the Tehachapi Mountains. There are these big oaks at the mouths of the canyons, and as the sun came up, my husband, Tom, in the car ahead of me radioed back and said, “Birds are falling out of the sky.”

At first, I laughed. But then we got out of the car and realized that was exactly what was happening. Hundreds of migratory birds were coming off the desert and dropping into the oaks, rabbitbrush, and canyon habitat, exhausted. There were tanagers, MacGillivray’s Warblers, so many others, swooping through the arroyo out to whatever shelter they could find.

That was when we truly understood how important this place was for migration. For a lot of those birds, it was the first place they could stop and rest after crossing the desert. 

It was a complicated agreement, and it was not without compromise. Tejon Ranch is still privately owned, and part of the land can still be developed. That was controversial then, and for some people, it still is. But the agreement also protected a vast landscape through conservation easements and helped ensure that one of California’s most ecologically important places would remain largely intact. ̽����ѡ is still connected to that work today through the Tejon Ranch Conservancy.

To me, Tejon Ranch is a reminder that sometimes the biggest wins are complicated. They require negotiation, compromise, and long-term responsibility. They won’t always be perfect, but they can still protect habitat for birds and biodiversity at a scale that would be almost impossible to achieve otherwise.

And that’s part of ̽����ѡ California’s legacy, too: being willing to stay engaged in hard conversations when the stakes for birds and habitat are incredibly high.

Looking ahead, can you share a specific program that gives you hope for the future?

I’m really excited about the BirdReturns model.

The idea of working with private landowners in the Central Valley to create temporary wetlands for migratory birds – at first glance it’s not intuitive. But when you think about it, it makes perfect sense. It's a smart way to meet birds where and when they need habitat, especially in a changing climate where water and wetlands are increasingly uncertain.

It’s also a model that could be echoed beyond California, in places like Texas and Louisiana, where agricultural fields and other private lands can and do provide important habitat, and possibly even in other countries. 

That is the kind of work that gives me hope: work that is practical, collaborative, and big enough to meet the scale of the challenge.

As ̽����ѡ California looks to the next 30 years, what message would you share with people who might want to get involved?

I want people to know that there’s space for everyone here.

The best way to build the conservation movement we need for the future is to expand and diversify it, bringing everyone we can into it. That’s something I really believe. We need to build a stronger conservation movement where more people can see themselves in this work and find a way in.

I think about programs like our Coastal and Salton Sea Leadership Programs, where young, brilliant community leaders are building relationships and deeper connections to the birds and habitats where they live. Whenever I have a chance to meet with them or see their capstone projects, I’m so inspired by their creativity and new big ideas.

This work depends on people who notice what’s changing, understand their communities, try new things, and keep showing up.

I’m excited about what comes next. There is still so much work to do, and so much we still have the chance to shape together.

Explore ̽����ѡ California’s conservation legacy timeline and follow along throughout the year as we reflect on the people, places, and partnerships that have shaped conservation across California.