Photographing Great Gray Owls Up North
May 5, 2021Photographing Great Gray Owls in the Great White North
Great Gray Owls are often referred to as ghosts of the forest by the many people who admire and seek them out, and maybe that’s why they’re called ‘great’ gray owls. Their elusive tendencies, silent movement, camouflage, and the unforgiving echo of their calls in the forest makes them hard enough to find even for experienced wildlife technicians. If you’ve spent any time watching America’s largest (but not heaviest) owl species then you’ll probably agree they are indeed great birds.
The global crisis of covid has been felt by nearly everyone in one form or another; photographers are no exception. Many photographers that I’ve listened to or read about will talk about lost revenues or canceled exhibitions, but as time went on I started to hear about the good the epidemic has done for at least a few photographic professionals. For them, this period became a breath of freedom from their insane and overbooked schedules, and for others it became an opportunity to go on a trip solely (or at least mostly) for their own enjoyment and pursuit of the art of photography without the pressures of delivering for a client. For those who try to see the silver lining in everything and were maybe feeling a little stir crazy after only photographing locally for a year, there was an opportunity here.
I saw that same opportunity before me. There’s one superb quality to nature photography that makes it far safer for people to practice during an epidemic: we almost always photograph all alone and far away from where other people tend to be. While there are exceptions, like Yellowstone, this rings true for most nature photographers, who are often hiking, driving, climbing, and diving deep into the landscape to capture images normally unseen by human eyes.
So, this past winter I took a trip up to the great white north. Without giving away too many specifics, let’s just say it was the northern part of one of our northern border states. To be fair, great gray owls can be found in many of our northern and western states and so really you just need to pick one with forests and meadows. There was another good reason to wait for winter though: owl irruptions. Owl irruptions, as we know them, are when huge numbers of more northerly owl species fly south for the winter to look for greener pastures to hunt. This event doesn’t happen every year though. Occurring at different intensities, they may happen every 3 to 10 years in a region depending on the species, usually controlled by the rise and fall of available prey in the owls native hunting grounds. Typically though, there’s always at least a couple owls that migrate south anyways.
If you do your research you’ll find that there are a few owl hotspots in the north, they are at locations that are not well concealed on the internet, but it does take some effort to find the places they frequent. After I was able to nail down one major owl hotspot, I began to dig up as much information as I could about the location, including what other species I could hope to photograph while on location. Shots of great gray owls, boreal owls, barred owls, northern hawk owls, bald eagles, red fox, ermine, and pine marten were all possibilities; not that there weren’t more species around but I only had so much time, 10 days to be exact. As a young and still inexperienced photographer, 10 days would be my longest photography trip as of yet–enough time to be able to focus on species I’ve never photographed before.
Once at my secret location, I had to contain my excitement. Waking up well before dawn on my first day was necessary to make it to my location on time, though the deep northern winter cold proved to do a great job of grounding me in reality. I prepared myself for the cold though, getting a new heavy down jacket and gloves, and new insulated waterproof pants and gaiters for the snow. What you can’t really prepare for though is the unpredictability of wildlife; it’s something that you can get better at understanding over time but never get great at, though it helps to perfect skills like flexibility and patience. This trip would definitely test those qualities.
As I arrived at my location I learned very quickly that my secret spot is a lot more popular than I realized. The name of the game was to drive up and down every road in the area and try to time your presence just well enough to increase your chances of getting lucky and finding an owl. I found out from others that my spot had been made famous by the hordes of people that follow owls on big irruption years; it even had its own facebook page! There were pros and cons to this. Pro: Birds may be more habituated to the presence of people and thus be easier to photograph without disturbing them; Con: More people disturbing them. There was also the chance that if an owl did something amazing in front of me there would be another photographer in the next car 10ft ahead of me getting the same shot as me! I decided I’d stick around the spot a few days more until I’ve at least seen a couple of my first owls, since according to the recently discovered facebook group they were plentiful there, and that was hard to turn down. After a few days I had seen a couple great gray owls and taken a few photos to go with them, but I wasn’t able to take any images good enough to really stand out. In those few days I had luckily befriended a few other photographers who mentioned some other (huge) areas further north where I could probably find some great gray owls if I was willing to put in a little more work.
Deciding to wait a few days to scout this larger area north of me, I turned to another species I was interested in. By word of mouth I had been told to check out a spot where an ermine (or a short-tailed weasel with a winter coat) had been spotted before, which oddly enough turned out to be a parking lot. I didn’t realize at first why ermine would be hanging around a parking lot but I would soon find out. Except, by the time I had got there and parked I was so tired from the day, and upon not finding any ermine, I couldn’t help but take a nap in my car.
With all the luck in the world I woke up at just the right moment. I looked out my window and saw someone laying on the ground with their camera. I must have still been groggy because I didn’t register what they might be photographing. Nonetheless, I thought laying on the ground was a weird thing for someone to do and my instincts told me to investigate rather than going back to sleep (thankfully). To my delight it was indeed a little white ermine! It had been running in and out of a hole in the ground; and was much quicker than I anticipated! It’s fur was a beautiful white the color of winter, but its underside had a yellowish tint to it, which I can only guess must have been an oily musk of some kind, used to communicate with conspecifics via their olfactory senses.
Apparently unfazed by the presence of people it turned its attention to our cars. At this point everyone was out of their vehicles and watching the ermine, while making sure to give it space. One by one though, the ermine would go up and into a car engine from the outside, disappear for a minute or so, and then remerge for a moment before moving onto another car. Eventually, it stayed much longer inside one of the cars, until finally, it came out with a mummified and frozen dead mouse! It knew what it was doing checking those car engines; having very clearly practiced this maneuver before. With its desiccated prize in hand, the ermine promptly made its way back in the direction of the forest, moving like a little white bullet, before disappearing into the distant brush and deep snow.
Hoping to ride the lucky train some more that day I then headed to another location I’d heard about from a stranger, one where a pine marten had been seen periodically; I had learned to lean on the advice of local strangers. I knew my odds weren’t good with this spot, though the odds of seeing an elusive pine marten are never very high. I became determined, and in total spent 3 whole days sitting and waiting for the cat-sized creature of the forest to make an appearance. I spotted him twice on the first day, running through the trees and amongst the thick brush far enough back that one could barely make the animal out. If you didn’t know to stop and look you would miss it completely. I didn’t dare approach him any farther than the shoulder of the road. Without getting any clear photos of the animal unobscured by branches, I decided to stay a second day. On that second day luck only so much as sneezed in my general direction, but that was enough. I had a few moments that day when I could get a somewhat clear photo of the marten climbing high in the tree branches, and another moment when it was partially hidden in tall grasses on the ground. The second day though, was better than the first, and I was willing to bet on the third day being even better. Unfortunately, on that third day, after waiting all day, I didn’t see the pine marten even once running around in the understory or canopy of the forest . It had eluded me completely. I ended up walking away from those three days of sitting and waiting with just one mostly-clear photo of its head poking out of the tree branches. After those three days though I decided it was time to move on, and head farther north.
Already on the move so many hours before sunrise, I became curious as to just how often the aurora could be seen this far south from the arctic. After a little investigation I found that while it does and can happen, it certainly doesn’t happen often. Even the locals only claim to see it a couple of times a year at most. So, my hopes weren’t high on seeing it.
Entertainingly, as I came to the highway mentioned by the kind passerby as to where one could see more great gray owls, I also noticed more people looking for them. You might think it would be difficult to tell what other people are doing in their cars from inside your own car as you’re both driving down the road, but people looking for wildlife kind of stick out. On a road where the speed limit is 55mph and most people go 65mph, those of us looking for birds were driving a comfortable 25-35mph and frequently pulling to the shoulder to let normal drivers pass.
While great gray owls tend to be meadow specialists they can sometimes be found in other nearby or similar habitats. If you go to a location with higher densities of the ghost owls, from time to time you’ll see them hunting right alongside the road where people have cleared back the trees twenty or thirty feet. Especially in areas that get a lot of moisture these spots can be suitable hunting habitats for them. While checking any normal sized meadows and fields in the area can be helpful, most people tend to see the owls hunting along the roadside man-made clearings. This might seem like a good thing at first since more habitat for a species is often a good thing, but birds hanging around in these areas greatly increases their odds of being hit by a vehicle. This is also because great gray owls tend to fly just above the ground to be able to listen to where their prey is before going in for the kill; unfortunately this also puts them at the same level of most vehicles.
After many hours of driving and seeing only a couple more owls along the road, and in less than ideal shooting situations, the day was drawing to a close. I knew that with the failing light any opportunities for finding more owls would go with it. Just as the sun was setting I noticed a good sized meadow behind a tree line off the side of the road; and sitting atop a tree in that meadow was a large bird. Despite the dim lighting I parked and raced out to where I could get a better look at the mysterious animal. With my binoculars I confirmed it was a great gray in the distance, maybe 200 yards away. I decided to be strategic and went up a hill that paralleled the meadow. I figured I wouldn’t be getting any decent pictures that evening but at least I could watch the owl hunt for a little bit. Hopefully I could learn a little bit more about how it’s been using this area.
By the time I reached where I thought would be a good vantage point, I was still about 75yrds away from the owl, but I still had a good clear view of it and most of the meadow. The owl would fly from branch to branch every few minutes, trying to get a new or better angle to listen for prey beneath the snow. Then, unexpectedly, the owl flies right onto a nearby tree; much closer than I would expect it to - a mere 20 feet away. I figured the owl had noticed me but I guess I had really piqued its interest. Some owl species with the reputation for having a high tolerance for the presence of people have been known to do this when they notice you in their territory, while others will only come if you call for them or try to feed them (which most people, including myself, see as highly unethical). I had heard of owls flying over to check people out unprovoked, that is without calling for them or feeding them, but to experience it myself left me without words. After a few more minutes the sky had become completely dark and eventually the owl flew away to continue hunting. I decided that this individual owl would be good to focus on; I knew I had to come back to this exact spot the next day and hope that the owl would be there again.
Being in one of the more underpopulated parts of the country, there weren’t any available hotels nearby to stay in at the last minute. Civilization tends to be more spread out up north. Thankfully, I was able to find a local bar/hotel/campground just outside the nearby town, one that mostly seemed to cater to snowmobilers, which had a detached room you could rent for the night. The bar/hotel/campground itself was an enigma; the walls were covered in skies, snowshoes, old muskets, and many animal heads and pelts. I briefly chatted with the manager/bartender about local wildlife and he told me tales of lynx, wolf, grouse, and moose that all frequented the area and are sometimes seen on their game cameras. With wonderful thoughts of wildlife on my mind I was shown to my room: a bathroom sized quarters with thin walls, a small space heater, and many wool blankets to help stay warm. Given that the daytime high was around 10 degrees, the night dropped well below zero.
Getting up before dawn, the cold of the night still firmly grasped the air outside, while the air inside had a burning smell, probably from leaving the space heater on all night. Turning my alarm off, I grabbed my outermost layers of clothes to put on underneath my many blankets where it was still warm. Eventually, I worked up the will-power to throw off my dozen or so blankets and comforters to get moving and out the door, my body still stiff and cold. Making my way up to where I had been the evening before, I was crossing my fingers and toes that the owl would be hunting in the same meadow. Thankfully, from a distance I could see the grey ghost in the cool morning light of the blue hour. I reached the top of my hill in hopes the owl would grow curious one more time and visit me up close. Despite flying from tree to tree every once in a while (not to be confused with the bird being flushed but rather actively hunting, since they are more crepuscular and sometimes even diurnal hunters on cloudy days) the owl never did make its way in my direction.
After some time, the owl decided to move to another snow-covered field just to the right of me. Down my hill and up another I had opted to wear everything insulated and waterproof so I could wade through the three feet of deep powder, rather than snowshoe on top. It felt very much like wading through a pond with the powdery snow, light and fluffy, just below my waist. The tree the owl rested in must have been a good one judging by how long it stayed on this new perch–a stark contrast to the previous area. The owl wouldn’t even look at me; I was definitely not high on its priority list. As always I was very careful not to make even the slightest noise so as not to disturb the owl’s hunt. I did stomp some snow down though, since I figured I might be there a while.
Soon, my fingers and toes started to stiffen, then burn with cold. I was trying to wait for the right moment, for a photographic composition that was more pleasing to the eye. Although, while allowing the bird to have control over my encounter with it was definitely better for the birds sake, I was unsure of how much longer I could stay poised and ready; some of my winter gear had reached its limit. Still, there was something otherworldly about being in the presence of a wild animal that has allowed you to observe its day to day life and struggles.
I want to point out there is a difference between chasing an owl, as some do, when it is clearly trying to get away from you, versus being able to read its behavior and body language enough to see that your presence is having a minimal impact on the individual and is acting normally for its species. This is a good practice both for the sake of the animal and for the photographer. We always want to disturb wildlife as minimally as possible, if at all, and to keep them from getting stressed by our presence. This is also good for the viewer or photographer because an animal that feels more comfortable will exhibit a more varied and natural array of behavior.
Finally, the bird had moved to another adjacent meadow. I didn’t have to go far; it sat in a tree not far off the ground and another hill nearby where a telephone line and snowmobile tracks had cut through the forest. It was here that the composition I was looking for started to come together. Then, it started to snow; snowing big, fat, slow, soft flakes. With a decent background, close proximity, and big snowflakes coming down it finally looked like I would get some exciting shots. After another twenty minutes with the owl, finally it took a couple dives into the snow and caught a small mammal before flying off into the woods. I didn’t follow it, I had spent enough time with the owl that morning and decided following it longer might test its patience with me.
I followed the snowmobile tracks back to the highway where I was parked, I studied the forest and landscape, trying to take in and process the experience I had with the owl; I could still hardly believe it had happened and I had been there to see it. I sat in my car for some time combing through my photos from the day; I had gotten exactly what I came for! Later that day I followed up on an unplowed forest road the bartender/hotel manager had recommended I drive down to search for lynx, where apparently a buddy of his had seen five, allegedly, just off the road the other day. This was hard to believe but I knew there’s often a kernel of truth in such high tales. I wasn’t surprised to find nothing, but was still excited just to be searching for such a creature. After this brief evening excursion was finished, my time in the north had come to an end, and I headed home.