It took a while to develop, but this is turning into a better-than-average snowy owl year. Great photos taken in Maine are turning up on Facebook and on other social media.
Some photos are so awesome, they are calendar-worthy. Normally, I would be worried about how much stress the owl endured to produce such breathtaking photos, but there are hopeful signs.
We’ve faced this concern for decades. Rare owls only come to Maine because they can’t find enough food up north. Often, the visitors are first-year birds, still learning how to hunt. They may already be weak with hunger when they arrive.
Getting flushed by a too-eager shutterbug doesn’t help. It may force the owl to expend what’s left of its energy reserves.
Encroachment isn’t the only issue. When an owl is not hunting, it typically finds a comfortable place to snooze, away from the prying eyes of crows. Crows and other birds view owls as threats, and they may gang up on a vulnerable owl that’s been forced to move in daylight.
Too many onlookers tromping around can also scatter the owl’s planned lunch, sending rodents and other prey underground.
Some would say it’s the owl’s fault. Owls in daylight are so photogenic, they bring all this mayhem upon themselves. Few people work diligently to get the perfect photo of a robin, but the perfect owl photo is like winning the lottery.
It’s not just snowy owls. Two other Canadian owls draw the same crowds. A northern hawk-owl in Dover-Foxcroft was last winter’s star attraction, drawing throngs of people.
It’s been several years since a great gray owl lingered somewhere in the state, but the next one is certain to draw an even bigger crowd.
I recall one great gray owl that attracted multitudes in Milford 19 years ago. It was not hard to find it. One just had to drive the backcountry logging road, until arriving at the long row of parked cars.
A close-up photo of a great gray owl on its perch is stunning. The only thing that can exceed the spectacle is a close-up photo of a flying owl. Accordingly, people brought live mice to toss to the owl, in hopes of getting that once-in-a-lifetime snapshot.
Years ago, this wasn’t a major problem. Back then, only professional photographers had cameras and lenses big enough to snap photos suitable for National Geographic. Developing multiple rolls of Kodak film, just to print that one awesome photo, was the cost of doing business.
Nowadays, digital cameras have made wildlife photography accessible to everybody. Even an iPhone can take impressive photos.
Years ago, word was slow to leak out when a rare owl turned up. Nowadays, email, text alerts and social media can spread the word in an instant. Crowds form quickly.
Fortunately, as the publicity problem has grown, so has birding awareness. One of Maine’s most popular Facebook groups does not permit the posting of rare owl photos, so as not to encourage misbehavior. Another wildlife Facebook group will post photos, but will not share locations. Bird alerts also omit posts on owl locations.
I remain optimistic for better behavior. I see many photographers adding notes to their postings, explaining how their photo was obtained without stressing the owl. In some cases, the post lists the lens size, documenting the camera’s ability to take close-ups from a respectful distance.
Better still, I have recently viewed posts explaining that the posted photo has been significantly cropped. It may look like a close-up, but it’s not.
These explanations are a testament to both the photographers’ ethics and their telephoto gear. Today’s cameras and lenses can achieve resolutions at a clarity that was impossible just a few years ago.
Experienced wildlife photographers use other tricks that anyone can try. Tripods enable sharper photos at greater distances. Using blinds, or shooting out the car window, induces less stress on the owl.
Shooting from behind trees, fences and other partial concealment will do in a pinch. Even using faster shutter speeds can help at a distance.
One who is without sin may cast the first stone. I’ve been birding for a long time. I have a good sense of how close I can be to a bird, before it shows concern. I have learned that prolonged staring at a bird, or making sudden movements, may make it uncomfortable.
But, come to think of it, I developed that sense by disturbing a lot of birds over the years. Even now, sometimes I’m just wrong.
