Spring Migration

That's a lot of birds!

When we talk about Spring migration, people in Iowa are usually referring to the arrival of the Robin (at the farm Mar 4 this year), Red-winged Blackbird (Mar 1) and Killdeer (Feb 26).  We anticipate and take note of the waterbirds flying overhead as the wetlands thaw out.  The v-shaped formations of Canada Geese and the echoing, rattling cry of the Sandhill Cranes encourage us to think about planting seeds for this year's veggies.  

This is the time of year where I hear the commotions created by small birds that like the shelter provided by the trees and bushes on our farm.  I heard, but only saw the flitting profiles of a batch of American Tree Sparrows by the Harvestore recently.  Even the Cardinals, who never did leave the area, are singing a different tune that tells us Spring is approaching - even if the wind is pretty sharp and the temperatures could be below freezing on any given day in March.

What we rarely notice and discuss is the departure of some of the birds that have spent the cold months with us.  The Horned Larks that rarely let us get a good look at them in the first place are suddenly gone, except for a lone bird that said good-bye to us and served as our last sighting for the year on March 7th.  The Juncos are still around - at least they were yesterday - but they are clearly congregating in larger groups.  One day soon we'll only notice them for their absence.

Or maybe we won't notice they've gone at all.  After all, it's hard to prove an absence rather than presence in our world.  And, of course, our focus is usually on the Spring arrivals, not on the departures.

As we were running a few errands on Friday, March 10, we took note of small flocks of birds (about a dozen birds in each) that would wheel away as we approached - only to land somewhere not too far away.  Because we live in the country and we pay attention to birds, we knew that our less-traveled roads often feature mixed flocks of Snow Buntings and Horned Larks (and perhaps even some Longspurs).  So, we looked for some signs that might tell us who we were seeing.  Eventually, we concluded that we were seeing Snow Buntings.

And, of course, we had no camera.

But, it just so happened that we went on an errand the next day.  Since we would be going to some of the same areas, we DID bring the camera.  And, sure enough, we weren't seeing ANY Snow Buntings. So, we were resigned to the fact that they had probably moved on.

I had no illusions that I was going to get a clear picture of any of these birds.  We know they won't let us get close enough.  If we think Horned Larks are restless and skittish, Snow Buntings have them beat, in my opinion.  Besides, I don't have the kind of lens one might need to even try to get much more than a "look, it IS a Snow Bunting picture!"

But, we were hoping to at least document what we had been seeing.  And that's why we took time to try and take a bunch of pictures when we did run into the MUCH LARGER flock of Snow Buntings that announced themselves as they wheeled away on the road ahead of us.

Snow Buntings are pretty distinctive this time of year because they are now wearing their mating plumage.  The black wing-tips against the bright white feathers actually show up pretty well as they veer away from the road and the implied threat that a vehicle brings with it.

Many birds change into their mating plumage by going through a molt (growing a new set of feathers).  According to All About Birds, the Cornell Lab website, Snow Buntings rub their heads and bellies against the snow to wear off the darker coloration on the tips of their feathers, exposing the lighter, white parts.  

Ah, the things we do for love.

When you look at the photos, you can see some differences in markings.  I suspect some of that difference might have to do with gender, with the males exhibiting bolder black bands on the wings.  And, if you take a closer look, you can see the different shapes these birds take as they fly.  Sometimes the wings are stretched straight out.  Sometimes they are swept back.  And, sometimes, the bird almost takes on a bullet shape as it slices through the sky.

If you live in the country, like we do, you probably notice birds that take off from the side of the road and are simply flashes at the corner of your vision.  They are illuminated only by the edges of the beams of your vehicles headlights.  These are likely Snow Buntings and their friends, the Horned Larks, doing what they do.  For the longest time, we just referred to them as those "snow birds" we can never get a good look at.

The weather would get cold and then they would be on the road edges.  Then the weather would show signs of getting warmer and they wouldn't be there any more.  Their appearance and disappearance was almost magical.  But, their desire to remain unnoticed actually makes their magic act seem unremarkable to most people.

Actually, Snow Buntings are more magical than you know.  They have this amazing ability to disappear the moment they land.  Or, if you happen to see them, they give the impression that they are blowing leaves and snow.  Even as they take off, they can still look a bit like debris in a dust devil until they open up those wings to wheel away.

And once they do that, it's too late for you to get much of a good look at them.

Still, Tammy and I tried our best to get a look at these illusive little birds.  We pulled over on a nearby gravel road and I did my level best to simply take pictures that we could try to blow up enough to see if there were any birds in them.  The picture shown above is one such shot...

and there are LOTS of birds in that picture.  Can you see them?

No, probably not, so I selected a section and magnified it.

Ok, how about now?

There is even one bird in flight (it's blurry because it was moving).  Including that bird, I think there are nine or ten birds in just this section of the overall image.

If I blow it up further, you can probably see at least one of the birds a bit better.  There are actually five or six birds in the portion of the image shown below.

Overall, I estimate we were witnessing the gathering of a flock of Snow Buntings that was at least several hundred birds - maybe as many as one thousand in the combined flock.  And, of course, even when we couldn't see them, we could hear them.  While I don't think we heard any songs, there were plenty of calls.  You get that many birds together, someone is bound to want to say something!

Our timing was excellent.  One day we noticed small flocks and the next we witnessed the combination of those flocks.  Today, I am fairly certain we won't witness any gatherings of Snow Buntings in our area.  Unless, perhaps, a single Snow Bunting wants to approach us for a photo opportunity before it flies off to join its friends in the northward journey.