Wise Guys: A booming owl population leads to rare sightings on
the Oregon Coast
Photo by Roy Lowe
By Nancy Steinberg • For the TODAY
[Posted Jan. 24, 2012]
We have a special and unusual winter visitor among us this year, whooooom locals and visitors are trekking great lengths to observe and photograph: a snowy owl has been hanging out on the Salishan spit for many weeks, and it’s not the only one around.
This magnificent raptor is part of a continent-wide, and perhaps global, phenomenon called an irruption, a dramatic migration of an animal, typically a bird, to an area where it is not usually found. The snowy owl usually lives in the circumpolar Arctic, where its gorgeous white plumage helps it blend into the winter snow. But sightings of “snowies” have been reported this winter throughout the Pacific Northwest, and in fact throughout North America, as far south as Kansas and Oklahoma. So what is our feathered friend doing here?
Roy Lowe, with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service office in Newport, explains that snowy owl irruptions occur every few years, correlated with productivity of the small mammals, especially lemmings, that the owls prey upon. Lemming populations were booming last spring when the snowies got ready to breed, and so the owls adjusted to the feast by producing more young than usual.
“They can have up to 10 or 12, young per nest, which is a lot for a raptor,” Lowe said.
Once the mammal populations start to decline naturally in the fall, competition for food among the young birds can be fierce.
“These young birds don’t necessarily know the ropes really well, and so a lot of them will move south” looking for better hunting grounds, he explained.
They are finding plenty to eat, apparently, from fallow fields in the Willamette Valley to our open stretches of beach. During the last irruption, in 2006, a snowy owl at the Yaquina Bay south jetty was observed preying on gulls.
Unlike the secretive owl species that hole up in trees during the day, snowy owls roost on the ground, out in the open, in treeless areas of the Arctic. They do the same thing here, so they are fairly easy to spot. The Salishan bird has been seen on the landward lagoon side of the northern part of the spit.
[Posted Jan. 24, 2012]
We have a special and unusual winter visitor among us this year, whooooom locals and visitors are trekking great lengths to observe and photograph: a snowy owl has been hanging out on the Salishan spit for many weeks, and it’s not the only one around.
This magnificent raptor is part of a continent-wide, and perhaps global, phenomenon called an irruption, a dramatic migration of an animal, typically a bird, to an area where it is not usually found. The snowy owl usually lives in the circumpolar Arctic, where its gorgeous white plumage helps it blend into the winter snow. But sightings of “snowies” have been reported this winter throughout the Pacific Northwest, and in fact throughout North America, as far south as Kansas and Oklahoma. So what is our feathered friend doing here?
Roy Lowe, with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service office in Newport, explains that snowy owl irruptions occur every few years, correlated with productivity of the small mammals, especially lemmings, that the owls prey upon. Lemming populations were booming last spring when the snowies got ready to breed, and so the owls adjusted to the feast by producing more young than usual.
“They can have up to 10 or 12, young per nest, which is a lot for a raptor,” Lowe said.
Once the mammal populations start to decline naturally in the fall, competition for food among the young birds can be fierce.
“These young birds don’t necessarily know the ropes really well, and so a lot of them will move south” looking for better hunting grounds, he explained.
They are finding plenty to eat, apparently, from fallow fields in the Willamette Valley to our open stretches of beach. During the last irruption, in 2006, a snowy owl at the Yaquina Bay south jetty was observed preying on gulls.
Unlike the secretive owl species that hole up in trees during the day, snowy owls roost on the ground, out in the open, in treeless areas of the Arctic. They do the same thing here, so they are fairly easy to spot. The Salishan bird has been seen on the landward lagoon side of the northern part of the spit.
Photo by Jack Doyle
Since the road on the spit is private and gated, most people have to hike out the spit about a mile and a half to spot the bird. You can access the trail from the parking lot of the Salishan Marketplace.
Even for non-birders, this is an easy (and spectacular) bird to spot. It is large (about 2 feet tall) and white. It could be perched on the ground or in a tree. It has some brown spots on its body and has bright yellow eyes with black pupils.
“If you get a decent look at it, there will be no mistake about what it is,” Lowe said.
It is important not to disturb the owl, so don’t get too close. A telephoto lens and binoculars are handy pieces of equipment. If you cause the owl to fly away as you creep closer for that full-frame photograph, you’re too close. For the latest updates on the bird’s location, and all other bird sightings in Oregon, keep track of the conversations at http://birdingonthe.net/mailinglists/OBOL.html. Coastal snowy owls have been spotted in recent weeks and months at the Yaquina Bay north jetty, Driftwood State Park, and near the Lane-Douglas county line, although all of these birds seem to have moved on.
While the snowy owl is a rare celebrity, there are a number of owl species that can be seen along the central coast year-round. Barn owls, also white but much smaller than snowies, nest in barns and other structures. The smallest is the northern pygmy owl, not rare but hard to spot because it is so small. Great horned owls start their breeding season early – around now, in fact – and can be heard in and near wooded areas hooting with the stereotypical “whoo-hoo” at night. How’s your owlish? If you can mimic their call closely enough (or play a recording), great horned owls can be called closer as they are drawn to check out the competition. Other species can be called in at night, too – but Lowe warns that they are such silent fliers that you might not even know if you’ve been successful.
A relatively recent introduction is the barred owl, which seems to have expanded its range from the eastern part of North America. This species is not necessarily a welcome addition to our local bird list, as they displace threatened native spotted owls. This species is in trouble enough already because of the scarcity of the large tracts of old-growth forest that serve as its habitat.
Lowe says it’s possible that the snowy owl visitors will stick around in the Lower 48 as late as March or so, when they will head back north.
“It makes you wonder,” Lowe mused, “how these young birds know where to go. It’s not like they’re a typical migrant, where those instincts are genetically built in.”
Perhaps owl magic is not confined to Hogwarts, after all.
Even for non-birders, this is an easy (and spectacular) bird to spot. It is large (about 2 feet tall) and white. It could be perched on the ground or in a tree. It has some brown spots on its body and has bright yellow eyes with black pupils.
“If you get a decent look at it, there will be no mistake about what it is,” Lowe said.
It is important not to disturb the owl, so don’t get too close. A telephoto lens and binoculars are handy pieces of equipment. If you cause the owl to fly away as you creep closer for that full-frame photograph, you’re too close. For the latest updates on the bird’s location, and all other bird sightings in Oregon, keep track of the conversations at http://birdingonthe.net/mailinglists/OBOL.html. Coastal snowy owls have been spotted in recent weeks and months at the Yaquina Bay north jetty, Driftwood State Park, and near the Lane-Douglas county line, although all of these birds seem to have moved on.
While the snowy owl is a rare celebrity, there are a number of owl species that can be seen along the central coast year-round. Barn owls, also white but much smaller than snowies, nest in barns and other structures. The smallest is the northern pygmy owl, not rare but hard to spot because it is so small. Great horned owls start their breeding season early – around now, in fact – and can be heard in and near wooded areas hooting with the stereotypical “whoo-hoo” at night. How’s your owlish? If you can mimic their call closely enough (or play a recording), great horned owls can be called closer as they are drawn to check out the competition. Other species can be called in at night, too – but Lowe warns that they are such silent fliers that you might not even know if you’ve been successful.
A relatively recent introduction is the barred owl, which seems to have expanded its range from the eastern part of North America. This species is not necessarily a welcome addition to our local bird list, as they displace threatened native spotted owls. This species is in trouble enough already because of the scarcity of the large tracts of old-growth forest that serve as its habitat.
Lowe says it’s possible that the snowy owl visitors will stick around in the Lower 48 as late as March or so, when they will head back north.
“It makes you wonder,” Lowe mused, “how these young birds know where to go. It’s not like they’re a typical migrant, where those instincts are genetically built in.”
Perhaps owl magic is not confined to Hogwarts, after all.
