Local birding report

This winter, as the frigid Arctic air continues to dip south and snow sweeps across Maine, one of the far north’s most iconic raptors has drifted silently into our landscape: the Snowy Owl. Their presence brings with it a feeling of wilderness—an echo of tundra winds and open expanses far beyond Cape.

On the last day of January my family and I were walking Crescent Beach when I noticed a large, white object atop a very distant telephone pole. Even without binoculars I just knew that this had to be a Snowy Owl! This sighting was especially meaningful because it was the first time we had ever spotted a Snowy Owl in Cape. After several minutes the large white owl took to the air and flew to another telephone pole, its great white wings and body contrasting with a blue vault of sky.

Snowy Owls are the most famous of the irruptive owls, known for dramatic southward movements every four to seven years. These irruptions have been recorded since the 1830s, especially across eastern North America. Though a few birds reach Maine most winters, only on rare occasions do they arrive in numbers like the winter of 2013-14. Mature males are almost entirely white, while females are larger and often display heavier brown spotting and barring across their upper parts, much like younger owls of both sexes.

The Indigenous people of Labrador and Quebec, referred to as the Inuit, call the bird Ookpik and once used its sacred feathers to fletch hunting arrows. The name “Ookpik” is associated with an Inuit handicrafting a sealskin owl toy with a large head and big eyes resembling a Snowy or “Artic” owl.

Snowys live a nomadic life, moving south when rodent populations crash or conditions become too harsh. Young males tend to travel the farthest, older females, the least. The long-distance travelers make multiple stopovers and defend temporary territories at each stopover. Their shifting habitats mean they are seldom monogamous, though some pairs remain together for up to five years.

During the Arctic summer, lemmings and mice make up the bulk of their diet. During the winter, coastal Maine becomes a migration corridor and feeding ground for Snowys due to abundant seabirds and open vantage points. During the cold months this species becomes an opportunistic hunter, feeding heavily on sea ducks, geese, grebes, gulls and even lingering Great Blue Herons. Their dietary flexibility allows them to linger in one location far longer than many Arctic species.

To conserve energy in harsh winter months, Snowy Owls often rely on stationary perches and minimal movement—quietly scanning for prey from poles, or atop open dunes. Recent studies have documented Snowy’s hunting over the open ocean and using can markers and buoys as hunting perches. My mind conjures a Snowy Owl perched on a frigid can marker in Casco Bay, fresh from taking a sea duck on the wing – an image steeped in a raw wintry myth.

Bald eagles are among Snowy Owls’ primary competitors, often attempting to steal owl kills. This forces Snowy Owls to be cautious when feeding. Great Horned Owls, though less common along open coastlines, remain dangerous nocturnal predators, prompting Snowy Owls to avoid wooded fringes. These interspecies dynamics shape where the owls choose to hunt and roost each winter.

Recent genetic and tracking research suggests the global population of Snowy Owls may be far smaller than once believed—possibly only 25,000 to 50,000 individuals worldwide. Earlier estimates placed the number between 200,000 and 300,000. That means there are fewer Snowy Owls on Earth than the number of people living in Portland.

And remember: Snowy Owls are protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, so ethical viewing is essential. Give these birds the space they need—staying roughly five school buses (about 150 feet) away helps ensure you don’t disturb an owl that’s simply trying to survive the winter.

On a birding-related note, using eBird’s “search by species” feature for December through February 2026 shows strong numbers of Bohemian Waxwings and Pine Grosbeaks just to our north, west and downeast. If the cold and snowy weather continues, our chances of seeing these two species in Cape should improve before winter wraps up.