The Snowy Owl: Ghost Owl of the Far North

Joe Meche is vice president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and is in his 10th year as editor of the chapter newsletter. Joe is also a member of the board of directors of the Washington Brant Foundation. He has been photographing birds and landscapes for over 30 years and has been watching birds for more than 50 years.

If you ask birdwatchers which species tops their winter wish list, many will quickly respond, “snowy owl.” In the words of Julio de la Torre, noted ornithologist, naturalist, and lecturer, the definition of euphoria is “a birder seeing his first snowy owl…or a veteran seeing his fiftieth. No other bird casts such a spell.” What is it about this particular bird that generates more excitement than any other? Perhaps this phenomenon is, in part, the result of the capricious nature of their rare visits to the northern tier states and sometimes even farther south.

You would be hard pressed to find a bird that is more enigmatic and evocative of place than the snowy owl. It would also be a challenge to find a single bird that creates as much of a stir in the birdwatching community as the first snowy of the winter. At this time, numerous snowy owl sightings have been reported, ranging from the lower mainland of British Columbia to as far south as Coos Bay, Oregon. The expected frenzy of owl watchers has also been reported.

The object of all this excitement, the snowy owl, Bubo scandiacus, is circumpolar and inhabits the open expanse of the high Arctic tundra. Snowys are the heaviest and most powerful of North American owls and one of the most striking birds on the planet. The males can be an almost pure white, while the females and young birds have varying degrees of dark barring. The lemon-yellow eyes with deep black pupils contrast beautifully with their snow-white faces.

All owls have distinctive voices, and the snowy owl is certainly no exception. On the barren tundra, where there is usually no sound except for the wind, the booming calls of the snowy owl can carry for phenomenal distances. It leans forward, swells out its throat, raises its tail and produces four bellowing hoots. The sound can be unnerving and, when several owls are calling at once, almost disturbing. Despite its normal, silent demeanor, the snowy has occasion to be quite vocal in a variety of situations, from mating calls to defensive calls when the nest or the young are threatened.

In their normal range, which is bleak and treeless, snowy owls squat on the ground or perch on mounds known as pingaluks. These mounds are the products of frost heaves that lift fairly large sections of the ground. Pingaluks can be as much as two or three feet above the surrounding area and are often drier, making them ideal for nesting sites. In migration and during irruptive years, snowys will search for elevated perches on rooftops, stumps and fence posts that probably simulate the height advantage of the pingaluks.

Snowy owls are primarily diurnal—active in the daytime—but their night vision is as good as that of any other owl species. Their primary hunting method is similar to the still-hunting technique preferred by some humans. They will perch on a pingaluk and patiently wait to see or hear potential prey. Their sense of hearing is so acute that they will take notice of any sound and then focus immediately on the source before taking to the wing and pouncing on their next meal. Occasionally, snowy owls will simulate the gliding, back-and-forth flight of the northern harrier in pursuit of prey.

The nest of a snowy owl is nothing more than a shallow scrape on the ground, lined with lichens, moss and feathers. Snowys produce a single brood each year and the average clutch is anywhere from seven to 10 eggs. Incubation is done by the female while the male delivers food and defends the nest. Incubation lasts 32-33 days and the young birds fledge after seven weeks.

Snowy owls are not migratory, per se, but irruptive; that is, they participate occasionally in massive movements when their primary food sources fail. While their diverse diet includes a variety of mammals and birds, the lemming is the species that is most frequently associated with the snowy owl. Lemmings are small, vole-like, plant-eating mammals that are colonial and active both day and night. Two species of Arctic lemmings provide a key food source for snowy owls.

A popular myth held that lemmings participate in mass suicides when their numbers grow beyond the ability of their surroundings to support them. It was thought that they performed these suicides by drowning themselves in the sea. The fact is that on a cyclical basis, lemming numbers grow so large that many die of starvation. This phenomenon takes place on a cyclical basis and many feel that this relates to the coincidental cyclical movements, or irruptions, of snowy owls.

While there is no doubt that the availability of food plays a part in these irruptions, another factor to consider is the severity of the Arctic winters. The instability and sheer brutality of the weather in the vast expanse of the Polar regions contribute to large-scale and cyclical die-offs of many species, including snow geese and musk oxen. With the up and down cycles of prey species or the vicious winters, snowy owls will move southward beyond their normal range, much to the delight of adoring humans.

So, what is it about snowy owls that creates such excitement among the birdwatching masses, and even creates a few new watchers? Perhaps it’s the unpredictability of their visits. Last year, for instance, there were no sightings reported in the immediate area, and so far this year, the sightings have been numerous. Perhaps it’s the symbolism of the last wild places that these birds represent. Snowy owl invasions are considered by many to be one of nature’s true spectacles.

A few years ago, on a bitterly cold January day in the lower British Columbia mainland, I observed 56 snowy owls! The entire surface of Boundary Bay was frozen, almost a half-mile out from the high tide line. A long stretch of cold weather had settled in and the area resembled an Arctic landscape. The tidal action and below-freezing temperatures combined to create fractures of ice that were buckled and tilted, providing perches for scores of snowys. Numerous drift logs were also utilized as perches. The scene was so surreal that I hardly noticed the cold. And then the sun went down!

That special day was as close as I’ve come to the Arctic and the home of the snowy owl. Even though humans have invaded every accessible corner of the Earth, the inhospitable tundra of the Far North remains wild, for the most part. The realm of the polar bear, musk oxen and snowy owl is a violent and harsh land and, hopefully, that is protection enough from a human invasion. §