A Visiting Gyrfalcon and Northern Hawk Owl

There are usually some birds at the feeders these days, and often the ground is covered with them, all frantic to consume as many seeds as possible. Once in a while there are none. Then you should look more closely, for a bird of prey may be present, either holding or hoping for a meal.

Almost always it is either a Cooper's hawk or a sharp-shinned hawk, both adept at catching birds in the confined spaces of yards, except for the picture window they cannot see. The high-flying falcons rarely visit a feeder and the red-tailed hawks stay more in the open, looking for bigger, slower game.

Winter in New England is the time for birds that eat seeds and fruit, birds that feed in coastal waters, and birds of prey. There are three species of hawks and four owls that regularly use our frozen landscape as their larder, but there are thirteen other raptors that are found in small numbers every winter. Then there are a few really rarer ones.

Nothing can quite match the stir of excitement when a very rare bird of prey is found. Usually such a bird has set up a winter hunting territory in which it can be found at least for a while, and often the whole season. When the word of its presence spreads, then birders flock to get a once in a lifetime look at the wanderer.

There are only four species that can arouse such eagerness, three owls and one falcon. All are normally residents of the far north, but during years of severe weather and scarce prey, one or two press southward to find a living. One day recently, a group of western Massachusetts birders were able to see two out of these four.

The extensive marshes along the Parker River in Newburyport are the hunting grounds for many raptors. None are as spectacular as the single gyrfalcon that now spends it time there just resting on a grassy hummock, or nibbling on the body of a duck or pheasant it has cached nearby. Most of its hunting is done at dawn or dusk, and it does not take long to capture the day's dinner.

The gyrfalcon is a huge falcon, larger than a peregrine, two feet from bill to tail with a five-foot wingspread. The wings are long, broad and powerful enough to lift its robust body low and fast across the marshes like a stealth bomber, surprising its prey and seizing it as it tries to lift off from the ground.

Usually it lives very far north, on the coasts of Greenland and far northern Canada. The origin of its name (the prefix pronounced like jer) is unsure, but probably comes from a word meaning greedy. We could only see this bird from a distance through our telescopes, but its size and bearing was impressive enough as it flapped and strutted around its roosting place.

A friend from New Hampshire was there, and it did not take long for most of us to decide a three-hour drive to the White Mountains was worthwhile just to get a look at another rarity, a northern hawk owl. This is an owl of woodland openings throughout the coniferous forests of Canada, and a special treat for those who have never seen one.

Ten minutes after we arrived at a small airport surrounded by overgrown fields, the bird was seen streaking low across the ground, then rising to alight near the top of a tree. With its long tail it looked like a hawk, but the rounded head, facial disc and forward seeing eyes betrayed its owl identity.

Those yellow eyes were as alert as only a hunting predator's can be, but the drooping eyelids gave it an extra aura of allure. We watched as the bird hunted and perched, catching and storing a mouse in a snag, and entirely oblivious to our presence.

The black patches on the face, the body barring and streaking of white and black made this owl a unique image as it posed and turned in the sun, giving us every angle at close range. After viewing two such magnificent animals in one day, the hours on the long, dark road back were filled with both high spirits and sleepy satisfaction.