Short-eared Owl
No group of birds elicits the same sense of awe and mystery
as the owls. They are difficult to see
and have an other-worldly facial appearance. On every birder’s life list, they
are among the last boxes to be checked. Aside from the obvious obstacle of
their nocturnal habits, many of the owls are restricted in range or habitat
type within their ranges.
Overall, this winter has not been great for owls. There was no irruption of Snowy Owls in the
eastern US this year. None of the other winter rarities made an appearance. But
in recent days, we had some good luck seeing, hearing, and photographing a few
of the less rare. Missisquoi National Wildlife Refuge in the northwestern
corner of Vermont has hosted Short-eared Owls since mid-December. Intrigued, we
headed west over the snow-encrusted Green Mountains to investigate.
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| Mount Mansfield, from Cambridge, VT, on the drive over |
As Scott Weidensaul relates in his fantastic book “Peterson
Reference Guide to Owls of North America and the Caribbean,” the Short-eared
Owl is dependent on open habitats like grasslands, tundra, prairie, and
marshes. Missisquoi appears to have a good amount of grassland and marsh (actively managed by the staff), but
the adjoining farm fields might also produce voles in the numbers that they
need for food. As owls go, this is a high-value species for us, since our
former home of New Mexico does not support the bird in any substantial number.
Most of the Vermont records are in the Lake Champlain region, where the fields
stay wet most of the year. Weidensaul also explains that this owl will set up
shop when local vole populations are large, which might be a temporary
phenomenon at Missisquoi. (But hopefully it will last longer.)
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SJ Young Marsh at Missisquoi: the Chronolog site photo
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We walked the path at Stephen J. Young Marsh. Another birder
had preceded us and prepared us for a perched owl in the mature trees at the
edge of the marsh. It was not hard to find: it was huge and obvious, a Barred
Owl, the most commonly encountered owl in the eastern US. Barred Owls are big,
bad, and fearless, and will sometimes sleep in daytime on an exposed perch, not
concerned with harassment from the neighboring chickadees and nuthatches. This
one was half asleep in early afternoon, perched right beside the trail. We
obediently followed the trail, as had the other birders that day, and it
brought us close enough for frame-filling shots in the camera.
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| Barred Owl at the marsh in Missisquoi |
I’ve had quite a few close encounters with Barred Owls, and often
feel bad for invading their space. But they usually stand firm. As if to
emphasize its placid disposition, this bird calmly raised a foot and began
scratching itself behind the ear. It stopped and held its head facing downward,
eyes closed. Then it calmly turned its head and scratched behind the other ear.
I’d say our level of disturbance was minimal!
In late afternoon, we joined a large group of birding
paparazzi at the Missisquoi visitor’s center, waiting for the show to start. As
the sun dropped over the horizon, I saw the first one in the distance, flying
over the grasses to the south. It’s always important to rule out a harrier,
which can appear at the same places and the same time of day. This bird had
much deeper wingbeats, with dark patches at the “wrist” of the wing. The flight
was more varied than the linear cruising of a harrier. The head was huge. No
doubt that this was a Short-eared Owl. The bird crossed the paved road and
circled over farm fields, where a second owl joined it. We got great looks, but
the fading light permitted only fuzzy blobs in my camera images.
That first glance called to mind a distant memory for me. I
was a beginning birder almost four decades ago, trying to figure out how one
sees a variety of species without the benefit of a vehicle, a possession too
precious for a poor graduate student. I scrutinized the map of the Boston
subway system and tried to identify “natural” places around the city to look. The
ponderously slow and creaky Blue Line dropped me at Belle Isle Marsh late on a winter Sunday afternoon
(the only day I unchained myself from the laboratory). I was struggling to
identify the urban sparrows and blackbirds when something large rose up from
the marsh, a hundred yards away. It was big and brown and obviously a raptor of
some sort. The most obvious physical feature was the huge rounded head, evident
even in flight to this unskilled birder. I immediately thought “owl” but had no
idea which one, and it flew away and landed out of sight before I could make
out any field marks. I later talked to my friend Jim, and when I described the
location and time of day, he said “Short-eared.” It was a phenomenal bit of
luck for someone who had ventured out with binoculars only a dozen times or so.
At Missisquoi, we tried again the next night. With the light
again fading, the first bird circled over farm fields across from the visitor’s
center. Then the unexpected happened. The banking turns of its flight path took
it close to the visitor’s center and about 15 meters above the ground, when it
suddenly landed on a bare branch at the tip of a tree. Not just any Short-eared
Owl, but one on a perch! This was a first for me, and we quickly set up the
spotting scope to be able to enjoy rare views. The owl was obviously alert, snapping
its head back and forth quickly as it scanned the terrain for both prey and
predators. I obtained photos from my position on the paved road, which was
distant but good enough to make out the stunning face pattern, with black
mascara markings next to the eyes. Now we’ve really seen a Short-eared,
we thought!
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| Short-eared Owl on a perch |
The bird returned to its foraging over the grassy fields,
and was later joined by a second owl, with which it played in tight circles and
flips in the air. One of them landed in the grass, and then a third owl joined
the party, also foraging in the distance. As the daylight was extinguished
completely, we were able to get two resting Short-ears in one scope field of
view. The closer bird periodically called, a kind of cat-like but punctuated
mew, called a “bark” by authors Weidensaul and Sibley. Scope views, photos, interactions
in flight, and vocalizations heard well – what more can you ask for? The memorable
moment was celebrated with a pint of 14th Star Valor beer in St. Albans that night.
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| Short-eared Owl flying overhead at Missisquoi |
A day after returning home, I walked around close to the
house at 5:45 in the morning. I heard the unmistakable tooting of a Northern
Saw-whet Owl. At last! It seemed likely that we would have them in the woods on
our property. I have tried eliciting responses many times, without luck. But
this time it called without any provocation at all. It continued tooting, somewhere
in the Northern White Cedar stand, until about 6:15 when it got too light.
Maybe we’ll get a breeding pair this year.
