December 8: If wishes

Diversionary tactics. 

Trying to wish gulls

into Snowy Owls.

November 13: Snowy Owl

Holiday planning.

A friend texts

about his first Snowy Owl. 

June 19: Arctic dreams

As the Solstice approaches

what does it mean

to dream of a Snowy Owl?

Posted with Blogsy

March 24: Looking for a Snowy Owl

A Snowy Owl has been seen regularly in the vicinity of Weskeag Marsh. After work today my husband and I tried to find it, with no luck. We were OK with that.

No real disappointment

to look for a Snowy Owl

and find bluebirds instead.

December 1: Owl daydreams

Sixty-degree day
but in this snowy, seaside field
I still look for owls.

March 28: Spring Snowy Owl

Birded Scarborough Marsh this morning. Despite the remnants of snow and a lingering chill, spring waterfowl--geese and ducks--are returning at last, courting and displaying on the rising waters of the spring marsh. And yet, two Snowy Owls linger during this season on the cusp...

 

Ducks return to the marsh.

And yet, Arctic owls linger

in melting snow.

Posted with Blogsy

February 15: Birding before the storm

Hours before snow falls,

restless owls leave their perches,

hawk catches a vole.

January 26: Snowy Owl at the Ice Bar

As we walked in the dark across the parking lot of the Samoset Resort last night, on our way to visit the outdoor Ice Bar there, a Snowy Owl flew over our heads and landed in front of us in full view on the roof of the fitness center, its white body shining in the dark.

 

The Ice Bar inspired

a visitation by

an Arctic emissary.

Posted with Blogsy

December 21: Winter Solstice

Participated today in the Thomaston-Rockland Christmas Bird Count. For the first time we found a Snowy Owl in our count area, on the Samoset golf course. The heavily barred bird looked like a rock until it moved. And then we found another, paler one, perched atop a church. Crows harassed it until it flew off over Rockland Harbor, a flurry of white wings and black in the bleak sky. The owl's yellow eyes shone pure and cold; the length and scimitar curve of its talons made me shiver. Such beauty, such deadly beauty. Like winter itself. 

We welcome winter

in the form of

two Snowy Owls.

One of today's owls, courtesy of Brian Willson (c), maineseasons.com

December 3: Abundance

Open your eyes to
what's out there. A friend saw
ten Snowy Owls today.

December 1: Owl on the rocks

Snowy Owl seen today at Rye Harbor, NH

Cold white stone

at ocean's edge--

owl visitor. 

April 1: Transition

First day of April, Opening Day for the fishing and baseball seasons. Hopefully the last ragged remnants of snow will soon be washed clean by April showers.

First day of April.
Snowy owl lawn sculpture poses
next to rusting Christmas tree.

March 16: Finally!

I've lost track of how many times I've gone to the Samoset to look for the snowy owl first reported there over a month ago. Less than a week from the vernal equinox, I'd given up hope, figuring the owl was on his way back to the Arctic by now. This winter has seen a record number of snowy owl sightings across the country, dozens in Maine alone. I've been feeling like a birding loser, unable to see a snowy owl in the one year when they're virtually everywhere. (One even showed up on Hawaii!) I could have driven three hours down to York to see the one that's spent the winter at Nubble Light, or looked for the one reportedly still lingering at a dairy farm in Clinton, but with all the owls out there, I'd really wanted to see the one closest to home (and which I came so close to seeing back in early February--see post for February 12).

When I heard from two different sources that the Samoset bird was still around, my hope returned. With a use-it-or-lose-it vacation day today, I figured this was my last chance. It's supposed to warm up significantly over the weekend, which will probably send most of our lingering winter birds northward. I headed over to the Samoset directly from a massage, figuring the relaxed frame of mind would help my quest. One person I know had seen it near the ponds, so I parked near them and walked the paved path through the golf course from there. Many geese, but no owl near the ponds. I heard my first blackbirds of the season singing from the reeds. No owl visible on the golf course. No owl visible on roof tops. I decided that at the very least I could walk along the shore bluff and count waterfowl. A song sparrow flew past. A loon drifted offshore. I looked down at the stony beach...

And there he was: a big, white snowy owl perched on a rock, impassively turning his head to look back at me. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I was so relieved and happy to finally see the owl that I burst into tears. I watched him for a while until, satisfied and happy, I finally decided to move on and leave the bird in peace, wishing him a safe flight back to the Arctic tundra and good luck in finding a mate and lots of lemmings to eat there.

I took the long way back to my car to see what other birds were around. Song sparrows, cardinals, and robins were all singing. A flock of grackles flew over. Pairs of ducks bobbed off the breakwater and in one of the resort's ponds. A big harbor seal perched atop one of the rocks offshore, as if beached there by the low tide. Dozens of robins hopped around the golf greens, hoping for worms. A pileated woodpecker swooped past. Clusters of pussy willows edged an alder thicket. A junco trilled from atop a tree. The very air is breathing "spring." I don't know how much longer the owl will linger now, but I am very grateful he hung out long enough.

On spring's wet threshold,
snowy owl lingers, robins
sing their merry songs.

February 17: Not the owl I was looking for

Yesterday a friend shared beautiful photos that he got of the snowy owl flying a few days ago near the Rockland Breakwater, and I have to confess they were taunting me. Having some free time this morning, I decided to try yet again to see this elusive and charismatic bird. There was no one walking on the breakwater when I arrived, so I was hopeful. But a quick scan showed it free of birds, as well. A walk on the Samoset grounds also proved fruitless. No agitated crows, no white lumps in the distance.

But I decided to make the most of my outing and see what else was around. In the waters around the breakwater I observed several loons fishing for crabs, a horned grebe, and some buffleheads. A string of eiders drifted past, and a merganser flew overhead. On the beach a ring-billed gull interacted with two herring gulls. And then, a big bird flying over the water caught my eye. It was bulky like an owl, but not white, so not the snowy. I got a better look with my binoculars and was astonished to realize that it was an owl--a short-eared owl! Not at all what I expected!

I've only seen short-eared owls flying over fields, flapping and gliding, dipping low over the grass, turning acrobatically in mid-air. This owl showed the same flight behavior, only it was over the ocean. I watched its every move, fascinated. It swooped low over the water. What was it going to do, catch a fish? Where was it going? Was it going to fly across the outer harbor over to appropriately named Owls Head?

Eventually the bird landed on leeward rocks near the end of the breakwater, out of sight. I didn't want to walk out to try for a closer look, because I'm sure that would have flushed it, causing it needless stress. So after waiting a bit to see if it would move to the top of the breakwater, I left. No snowy owl, yet again, but I was not at all disappointed at what turned up in its place.

Ocean a wide field
for a stray owl to explore.
Cold rocks offer rest.

February 12: Not finding the owl (again)

Yesterday at 7:40 a.m. a friend emailed that there was a snowy owl on the Rockland Breakwater. I got the message at 8:30, was down there by 9:00. Of course by then it had flown (probably away from the people walking on the breakwater). But from the path I could hear a bunch of crows making a racket--the kind of racket they make when mobbing an owl. I could see them going after something on the roof of one of the buildings at the Samoset Resort, which abuts the Breakwater Park. But the roof itself was not visible from any angle on the ground, alas. And even more unfortunate, I had to be back in Camden by 9:30, so I couldn't wait around for the owl to get fed up with the crows and move on to a hopefully more visible perch. So I left frustrated in my owl quest. (My friend later confirmed that the owl had indeed flown from the breakwater to the building the crows had pegged.)

This is not the first time I've missed a snowy owl. For several winters during my childhood a snowy owl would perch on the roof of the historic Finnish church in South Thomaston; my dad and I drove down there several times to see it without success. Unlike many birders I know, I'm not a "bird magnet." Cool birds don't come easy to me.

My husband and I went back early this afternoon and walked all around the Samoset grounds despite the icy blasts of wind coming straight off the water. Lots of Canada geese, a few mergansers, but no snowy owl. I guess I'll just have to take comfort in knowing it was there yesterday, even if I couldn't see it. (As small consolation, I did see a pileated woodpecker fly across the road as I was driving back to Camden.)

Owl not seen, again.
Yet I could feel its presence
in that Arctic wind.