After watching Canada jays, red squirrels, and boreal chickadees stuff their bellies with peanut butter at the Admiral Road feeders in Sax-Zim Bog, my family and I wandered over to the Friends of Sax-Zim Bog Welcome Center and took a walk down Gray Jay Way—a trail that was named before Canada jays had their name changed in 2018.
Mid-afternoon is a notoriously quiet time for birdwatching, but we admired the whimsical shapes of the black spruce and tamarack trees in the bog and enjoyed the sunshine of an unseasonably warm day. Hummocks of sphagnum moss, bog rosemary, leatherleaf, Labrador tea, and other bog plants had begun to emerge from beneath the drifts, so I often focused down.
A flutter of movement caught my eye. Crouching low, I spotted a tiny moth crawling on the glass-like jumble of half-melted snow. Brown wings folded over their back in a nondescript robe with a short fringe along the trailing edge. Thin antennae sensed the world. Uploading a photo to iNaturalist, I was amazed when the app provided a fairly confident identification: Acleris oxycoccana. According to Wikipedia, their caterpillars feed on leatherleaf—the plant I’d found them near, and the adults have been observed flying around in nearly every month of the year!
| This tiny moth eats leatherleaf in bogs and has been observed in every month of the year! Photo by Emily Stone. |
Seeing a moth seemed to signal that evening was coming, and our thoughts turned to owls. Sax-Zim Bog is famous for hosting rare owls. Last year was an incredible irruption year when great gray owls, boreal owls, and snowy owls visited from their homes farther north. This year has been much quieter. A few great gray owls nest here, but lately they’ve been secretive.
This is the southern edge of northern hawk owl breeding range, and sometimes more northern residents migrate here in the winter, too. We’d heard that a northern hawk owl was hunting at the edge of a field on some of the private land that makes up the patchwork of ownership in Sax-Zim Bog Important Bird Area in Northern Minnesota, so off we went!
The line of birders with spotting scopes and giant cameras on tripods was much easier to spot than the owl. She blended in with the brush at the base of aspen trees in the fencerow. Northern hawk owls are relatively small raptors who act more like hawks. She was using her excellent vision to look for voles in the field below. Hawk owls hunt more with their eyes than most other owls, who tend to rely on precision hearing for catching prey under grass and snow.
When she finally swooped down and then back up to a new perch in the aspen tree, we got a better look. Her breast was finely barred with brown stripes and the shoulder she turned toward us was dark brown. Dark feathers outlined her face and highlighted her yellow eyes. After a while she swooped down and disappeared again among the brush.
| Northern hawk owls hunt more in the daylight, and more with their eyes than a typical owl. Photo by Larry Stone. |
We’d also heard reports of both a long-eared and a short-eared owl hunting in a particular grassy field, so we went to investigate.
Long-eared owls look a bit like great horned owls, with two feather tufts (neither ears nor horns) sticking up above a tan facial disk. While they nest in the Northwoods and throughout Eurasia, somehow they’ve never been on my radar. They are secretive, and very nocturnal. Using precision hearing they can catch prey in complete darkness! During the breeding season only, they give a series of powerful but monotone whooo notes—not nearly as charismatic as the barred owl’s “who cooks for you?” call. The last rays of a setting Sun turned the field golden as we watched. This is where they like to hunt…but where was the owl?
| Long-eared owl, Photo by By Pavlen, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=80979664 |
We also hoped to spot the short-eared owl, another hunter of open country. I have seen these widely distributed owls in two very different places. Once, while driving along the Dalton Highway in Alaska, one swooped over the pipeline—not too far from some caribou! And again, at dusk in Haleakala National Park in Hawaii, the local subspecies, called Pueo, soared over the switchbacks in the park road.
Scanning the horizon for owls, I finally spotted a black silhouette perched at the top of a far tree. My binoculars were no match for the distance and the dusk, but another birder with a powerful lens stopped to see what we were looking at. As the shape took flight, he snapped a few quick photos. Dark body, shoulders, and wrists contrasted with white trailing edges in a pattern that was unmistakable—a dark morph of a rough-legged hawk.
These incredible raptors nest all around the top of the globe and migrate to the middle latitudes for the winter. Feathers all the way to their toes give them their name and the ability to withstand frigid temperatures while hunting lemmings and voles wherever they go.
The rough-legged hawk disappeared over the far trees, and the Sun sank below the horizon. We decided to head home. Thirty-six minutes after we left, more patient birders reported on social media that the long-eared owl came out to hunt. That’s the way it is with birding, and we wouldn’t have it any other way—now we have an excuse to go back to Sax-Zim Bog next winter!
Emily’s third book, Natural Connections3: A Web Endlessly Woven, is available to purchase at www.cablemuseum.org/books and at your local independent bookstore, too.
For more than 50 years, the Cable Natural History Museum has served to connect you to the Northwoods. Our Winter Calendar is open for registration! Visit our new exhibit, “Becoming the Northwoods: Akiing (A Special Place). Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and cablemuseum.org to see what we are up to.