While the folks in the northeastern United States endured a February mega-snowstorm, bird lovers on coastal Georgia have been treated to a different type of snow event — no shovels needed. Just bring your binoculars, camera or spotting scope.
The saga began in early December, when observers on Sea Island spotted a large white bird hanging out on the roof of a condo. When it was positively identified as a snowy owl, birdwatchers from everywhere began flocking in to see it, aided by Sea Island naturalist Kristen Morris.
A week later, the owl obligingly moved to a more public location on St. Simons Island.
While many of my friends saw the bird in December, I missed it. Jokingly, I remarked to my My Wild Birds Unlimited co-worker Nicole, “I don’t have time to go traipsing down the coast again. That snowy owl needs to come to Tybee.”
On Feb. 4, I was helping a friend hang a painting of a snowy owl on the wall of her apartment when my cellphone rang. Nicole stated matter-of-factly: “Your wish has been granted.”
Puzzled, I waited for more.
Nicole continued: “The snowy owl is on Tybee. A woman saw it from her third-floor balcony on Strand Avenue and wanted you to know.”
“Oh, no,” I moaned. “I have to give a talk tonight. Please don’t let it leave until tomorrow.”
The next morning I got up before dawn and drove to Tybee’s commercial district. As I approached the Pier, I glanced to my left and, miraculously, saw a large white owl perched atop a red peak of a condo.
As I brought up my camera, the bird flew across to the front of the condo. I watched it briefly, and then it disappeared. After more than an hour of driving around looking at lots of plastic brown owls, I was about to give up. Then several other seekers and I spied something large and white flying toward us. It landed atop a nearby condo.
Eureka! We had found it!
Standing 24 inches tall with a 52-inch wingspan and startling yellow eyes, this snowy owl is an awe-inspiring sight.
Because these owls get used to the extended daylight of far-northern summers, they are more diurnal than our other owls.
When I was in Alaska last summer, I saw them hanging out on the tundra.
Researchers there told us lemmings were in short supply, and the owls were eating a lot of shorebirds and ducks. Generally, it is food shortages that drive the owls south in the winter.
On Sea Island, Kristen was able to recover one of this owl’s pellets. It contained bones from at least three different small song and shorebirds. Based on numerous reports from December and now February, this bird’s habit seems to be to hunt at night around our beaches, marshes and mudflats. It returns just before dawn to lounge atop area condominiums.
Not all the locals are happy with the new critter on the block. One morning, the owl flew in and vanished on top of a condo covered with air-conditioning units. We knew it was there because several crows were diving and cawing above it. Eventually, the owl flew, returning to its condo of choice followed by several squawking crows.
As a wise person once commented, “Be careful what you ask for; you might get it!” Now that the snowy owl is on Tybee, I have to keep tabs on it, reporting its presence or absence to other eager birders. Oh well, what’s a little sleep deprivation compared to the opportunity to hang out with this spectacular bird?
Special thanks go to Julie Dillon, who had her eyes open to the beauty around her, and to Pittsburgh visitors Tom and Dick Lobaugh. Though non-birders, they have caught snowy fever, offering the hospitality of their balcony for better views.
I’ll take this kind of snow over that cold, wet stuff any day! Good birding!
Bird enthusiast Diana Churchill can be reached via email at birderseyeview@bellsouth.net.