Great Gray Owl
Searching for a Great Gray Owl
January 2023
There are life birds and then there are Life Birds! I set out in search of Great Gray Owl in the famed Sax-Zim Bog in northern Minnesota on Thursday afternoon. My friend Jay met me in the Twin Cities and we drove due north into a landscape coated in 3-4 feet of snow. Everywhere I looked seemed like a postcard.
Friday morning at sunrise we were approaching the bog, a balmy -11F but no wind thank goodness. To the east we noticed the unmistakable profile of an owl perched atop a young Black Spruce. Even backlit, there was no doubt this was a Great Gray! The bird was actively scanning the snow-covered fields, listening for its prey, and as we watched, it made a quick dive but came up empty, landing a bit further from the road. I set up the scope, which provided a fantastic view of the bird’s yellow eyes and crisp, white “bow tie.” Just as I mounted my phone to the scope, it made another dive, and this time it may have found a meal as it flew just out of view.
The Perfect Photo Opportunity
Jay could hardly find words, but eventually asked, “how is it that you see a Great Gray in just 10 minutes?” I just felt this was a good sign of things to come, and my joy of seeing such a majestic lifer soon morphed to anticipation of the next encounter. I wanted a good photo.
We continued into the bog and set into a routine of slowly driving the lonesome back roads, the crunch of our tires the only sound for miles. A Black-capped Chickadee flew by, alerting us to the presence of a small feeder. Using the car as a blind, we eventually were rewarded as Canada Jays, Evening and Pine Grosbeaks, Hairy Woodpeckers and even a few hardy Pine Siskins shared the seed.
After lunch at the Wilbert Café in Cotton, the only food near the bog, we resumed our patient search. In addition to Great Gray Owl, Sax-Zim regularly attracts Northern Hawk-Owl, a species seldom seen in the lower 48 states. We made a stop at the Visitor’s Center where a large flock of Evening Grosbeaks commanded the many feeders. The friendly staff offered hot coffee and informed us that this wasn’t shaping up to be a big year for Great Grays, with just a few sightings per day.
The sun was up, and the temperature was now just -5F, perfect for a short hike to a more remote feeding station where a Boreal Chickadee had been seen. In addition to seed feeders, the folks at Sax-Zim hang deer rib cages that attract both birds and mammals. When I arrived at the end of the half-mile trail, no sooner had I settled in than a Boreal Chickadee began working away on the frozen rib meat! Such a delicate, small bird, I’m sure the protein was needed to survive the sub-zero winters.
One More Shot to Find the Great Gray
But there would be no more owl sightings that day, nor would we turn one up the following day. When we woke on Saturday, the bog was shrouded in thick fog. Temperatures were up but visibility was quite low. We covered the bog, finding a few Ruffeded Grouse and even a Trumpeter Swan in a small section of open water. But no owls. In the afternoon the fog finally burned off leaving behind a sparkling wonderland – every branch and needle, be it a towering jack pine, lowland spruce, tamarack, aspen or birch, was coated in white crystal!
My departure was set for Sunday afternoon, but Jay agreed to wake early and give it one more shot. We packed our bags and set out in the pre-dawn darkness. Highway 7 forms the eastern border of a mishmash of forests, farms and wetlands that collectively are known as the Sax-Zim Bog. And there are spots on a map called “Sax” and “Zim,” there’s even a small graveyard in the vicinity that references Sax, but that’s about all. Making our way up the highway we noticed a car pulled over, and as we neared, I could make out a tripod. A good sign. Pulling in behind, I missed the silhouette at first, but there it was, maybe a hundred yards or so east of the road. I took my time with the camera, trying for the best shot possible given the challenging light. And as I did, something caught the owl’s fancy and it silently took to the sky, flying right toward us before turning to settle on an impossibly thin perch just a little in front of us. Even though the Great Gray is North America’s largest owl, it is lighter that both the Snowy Owl and even the Great Horned Owl, and this tiny twig, no thicker than my finger, easily supported it. I whisked myself closer as a northbound train whistled its approach from behind. As I focused, the owl turned its head to the oncoming train and was once again in flight, crossing the highway and then the tracks and dropping into a stand of spruce.
Jay had that look in his eye again. “Did you get the shot?” But he knew. I was smiling ear-to-ear, awed by the good fortune of having arrived just minutes before this scene would take place. But that’s birding.
Great Gray Close up