Three Snowbirds

These three birds are undaunted by our snow and cold.  Maybe it's because the winter in their summer habitat is much worse right now.   All were found within along about 50 yards of country road.  It's about location, location etc.  There are crop fields that are enriched by manure from a local farmer.  

Here is the first subject, a Short-eared Owl.  I was waiting for other birds to approach when crows busted it from it daytime roost, and it landed near where I was parked.

When my hybrid is on electric drive, I can inch along the roadside to get into position without disturbing the bird. It is important to stay in the car to avoid stressing the birds on extremely cold days.

Next is another winter visitor, a Horned Lark.  I've shot a LOT of images to get just a few with horns, actually feathers, displayed.  The wind is often  strong and pushes the horns in strange positions.

Larks are small and very shy.  I love the yellow throat patch. Even with a long lens, I need to be within 25 feet for a photo.

Finally, here is a Snow Bunting.  They are even smaller, about chickadee size, and extremely shy. Again the coloration is beautiful.

In only a few days, I expect the lark and bunting to head north until next December.  The owl will likely be in the region longer more difficult to find.

Paul Schmitt

Snowy Owls (plus a few bonuses)

Like many bird photographers, I will go a fair distance for a really special bird.  Snowy Owls are high on that list.  So, in February I drove up across the border into Ontario to follow their sightings reported since the first of January.  Pam and I arrived in late morning and began to crisscross local roads until I spotted a bluish white in a pure white field.  Can you see how the owls back doesn't match the snow exactly. (I hope your screen is color balanced.)

The bird was actually about 50 yards away, so it wasn't standing out quite like my long lens suggests.

This was a good start.  Owls are never as common as crows in an area.  Continuing on down this dirt road, Pam asked what the shape in the spindly tree was.  Binoculars revealed falcon, namely a female Merlin.

Like the owl, as long as we stayed in the car, the bird paid little attention to us.   I inched the car up several times before I got a little too close, and the Merlin flew farther up the road and out of sight.

We continued slowly along the road looking for owls.  Over the crest we saw the Merlin and again got close.  Eventually, it signaled that it was about to fly.

We continued our search encouraged by our early good luck. Anyway, we had all of the next day.

The sky was filled with light snow flurries through the night.  At early light, we headed to a location where I had seen birds twice in December. Assuming the Snowy Owls would again be on the ground, we trained our binoculars across both sides of the road.  Somehow, I looked up toward a telephone line that parallels the road and let out an exclamation (that I won't put in print).  There was an owl perched on top of the nearest telephone pole looking right at us.

It tolerated us, and ignored the snow plow that passed beneath.  I got out after the first photos and set up on my tripod.  Over fifteen minutes, as my hands became numb, I casually moved closer at a tangent to the direct approach.  Usually, I took a few steps when it was looking away.

The snow continued, and at times the bird fluffed up and shook off the snow from its head and back.  The cold eventually got the best of me, and I slowly retreated without the bird ever shifting away.

This was a good start to the day.  We moved on to continue our search.  I began to wonder if the snow was perhaps shifting the owls up onto perches.  Turning onto a dirt road, I spotted another Snowy on a fence post.   I got within about 30 yards and turned the car sideways to shoot out the side window.   It held its position.

All was looking good to get closer until a large truck approached at high speed with a wide swath of blowing snow.  I had to pull off to the side and the owl was gone.  It was still a good morning.

Farther along the same road, I saw a resident coming out to fill some bird feeders and stopped to
talk.  He had drawn in a good selection of small birds. Once he was back inside, I had a few Snow Buntings perch close.  They are very skittish, so this was good luck.

Soon it was midday and time to find the local cafe before continuing.   Then it was time to explore some new locations.  I had my heart on finding one of the large flocks of Snow Bunting that seem to blow into the corn field stubble with every gust of wind.  The plan was to pick a likely field and just let the flock come to us.  Gave it a good wait twice with no luck other than a shy Mourning Dove taking refuge from the wind.

We had one more road to try, and it was a hit.  About 60 yards out from the road was a long row of piled manure with an odd white clump of snow.  Make that a Snowy Owl.  It was far enough away that I could pull off onto a tractor path and assemble my tripod and long lens for a stalk.  The path angled off from a direct line to the owl, and it allowed that I was just passing by.  I cut the distance in half and made a favorite image.

This was a pretty good day.  After dinner, a review of the coming morning's weather was discouraging.  Temperature -10°F and wind chill near -30 °F.   Brutal.   Headed for home in the morning.

Paul Schmitt

Discovering Iceland- An Overnight on Flatey Island

We'd seen Flatey Island three days before when the ferry Baldur, crossing Breiðafjörður Bay, stopped there.  It unloaded day-trip passengers and potable water. Today, we would leave our van on the boat, taking only an overnight bag and photo gear.  (Our van would be waiting for us at the ferry terminal in Stykkishólmur.) The island of Flatey is about 1-1/4 miles long.

We had an easy departure time at 09:15 from the Brjánslækur ferry wharf.  We were all eager to explore Flatey.  At the terminal, our overnight baggage for the island went in a freight box to be off-loaded.  Right on time, the Baldur approached and executed a 180° turn to back up to the vehicle ramp.  It wasted no time; it has both bow and stern loading, plus bow thrusters.

Once ashore on Flatey, you walk.  It is a modest 1/4 mile to the only hotel on the island. The hotel has a small utility vehicle to transfer our luggage.  The accommoda- tions were quite nice. The island may be remote, but the food was not spartan.  How about a cod tacos with pickled veggies? It spoils the traveler.

Of course, we did not come to Flatey for the luxury but rather for the scenery and the birds. I've been on other islands where there were no real roads, and it is liberating.  Life is simpler and the children play soccer with joy, or search the shore for polished stones.  Adults have time to sit on the porch and socialize over a bottle of wine. The pace of life on Flatey was noticeably easier.  All but two families are summer cottagers. In winter it is likely very quiet with no children because there is no school.

A walk around the island finds a lot of  interesting scenes.  A boatman is rowing out to one of the boats anchored in a partially submerged volcanic cone called Höfn on the map. It is a perfectly sheltered anchorage.

There is a rusted and long abandoned tricycle left on the side of the trail near the hotel.

Farther down the trail is a homemade wheel barrow.  I saw some modern ones with lightweight plastic tubs - more efficient - but not as creative.

The island's church stands on the highest part of the island.  With only two year-round families, it did not seem to have any activity.  We saw many small churches in the countryside, often speaking of an early time when substantial fishing communities supported them.  Such was the case on Flatey.







Exploring Flatey begins with a short walk from the hotel towards the bird cliffs.   A small wetland reveals the ubiquitous Mallard, in this case a duckling.  I had in mind something more exotic.

 It did get better.  This is a Red Phalarope. It was picking for food in the seaweed at low tide.

On the trail from the ferry wharf, there was a field of thick grass and several Red-necked Phalaropes were making a lot of noise with each passing person.  Close inspection located a nest some 30 feet from the trail, and very well hidden.  The little bit of dried grass stalks beneath the bird was the only tip that this was a nest.

There was another surprise, Snow Buntings.  Only these were not in winter plumage. They were frequent on the bluff above the cliffs, and seemed to be picking small insects from the many small pink flowers.



Flatey certainly had a rich array of birds. The sun rises on Flatey around 03:00 or a little before.  It is a pretty gradual event.  I still wanted more Atlantic Puffin images, including some with the beak full of fishes for their chicks in the burrows. I'd seen them that evening in poor light. 

Long before breakfast on the next morning, I arose to try once again for the puffin image I wanted.  In the early morning quiet, the sheep were bedded along the way, and not at all wary of people.  Arriving at the cliffs, I settled down low below the crest of the hill so the incoming puffins would not see me.  They were more wary than those at Latrabjarg.



I could pick up the incoming Atlantic Puffins far offshore and watch their flight pattern.  Usually they came in for a pass and then made a loop back out to sea before deciding to land.   The first several thwarted my effort as they either changed course abruptly, or disappeared behind the bluff just as the scene came together.  This was tough, but finally one bird came in nicely.

Even better, the Puffin landed on a rock outcropping before deciding to go to the burrow.  In its beak is a jumble of slender sand eels for the chicks.  It posed right and left. The bird was not actually posing, but looking around to decide if it was safe.  Oh, the joy!

I walked back to the hotel feeling so rewarded that I didn't care if breakfast was only dry toast, as long as there was coffee.  After a wonderful hot shower, the breakfast was (as I expected) much more than toast.  I pretty much chilled out until the Baldur arrived at 13:00 to continue our travels. 

I loved Flatey, and only wished I could have had another day.  Now it is off to huge waterfalls and other scenery.  There will still be birds, but also a tiny church and maybe a geysir, as they are called in Iceland.

Paul