Snow Bunting (Bruant des neiges)

"The strong wind from the north blows the snow almost horizontally; and, beside freezing you, almost takes your breath away. The driving snow blinds you, and where you are protected, you can see but a little way, it is so thick. Yet in spite, or on account, of all, I see the first flock of arctic snowbirds near the depot, white and black, with a sharp whistle-like note. An hour after I discovered half a pint of snow in each pocket of my greatcoat....

These are the true winter birds for you, these winged snowballs. I could hardly see them, the air was so full of driving snow. What hardy creatures! Where do they spend the night?"

Henry David Thoreau, 29 December 1853

     Snow Buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis) excite my imagination as much today as they did Thoreau more than a century and a half ago.

     They truly are birds of the snow, for without snow we barely see them, and the more it snows the greater the size of the flocks. If the flocks are really large, sometimes measuring in the thousands, they tend to be of Snow Buntings only, but in smaller concentrations mixed flocks with Horned Lark (Eremophila alpestris) and Lapland Longspur (Calcarius lapponicus) are common.

With Horned Lark

With Lapland Longspur

     Friendly farmers will sometimes put out corn for winter sparrows and finches and it is a magnet for Snow Buntings.

     Snow Buntings tend to stay on the ground, always walking rather than hopping, but from time to time will cover a roof or perch en masse in a tree.

     I have seen deciduous trees, denuded of all leaves, suddenly take on the appearance of having suddenly leafed out when hundreds of Snow Buntings decorate their branches.

     When the picture above was taken the birds in the tree probably represented no more than a third of the flock, but there is so much movement, with birds changing places, it is hard to be sure.

     On the ground they often convey the impression of an organic rolling mass, as birds from the rear of the flock overtake the leaders, and the process is repeated.

     One is sometimes given to wondering what served as perches for birds before humans installed wires.

     Snow Buntings are always ready to take advantage of them.

     I don't know how anyone could ever tire of seeing these exquisite birds. They are a feature of every winter in southern Ontario, where they spend time before returning to their Arctic breeding grounds.

     In a lifetime of being captivated by birds of every size, lifestyle and habitat, there is nevertheless a  unique and distinct appeal to Snow Buntings. Perhaps that feeling is engendered by the sheer improbability that tiny birds weighing around 40 grams only come to us at the harshest time of the year.

     When we lean into the wind, and pull our toques down over our ears, when we curse our bulky gloves when trying to focus our binoculars, when the wind bites our cheeks and the glare of the snow is harsh upon the eyes, these tiny sprites go about their business unfazed by it all. Without human intervention they find every seed on every stalk of grass still blowing above the snow. While the fox goes lean and hungry trying to locate rodents beneath the snow, and the Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) stares glumly at the barrier of ice at his favourite fishing spot, Snow Buntings not only survive, they thrive. They are like little jewels borne on the wind.

     Who among us cannot be moved by that?