VA-Birders,
There is an article about the SNOWY OWL at Dulles Airport in today's
Washington Post Metro section, pp B3.
Paul Mocko
McLean, VA
Flocking Together to See the Snowy Owl
Area Watchers Gather at Dulles Airport, Hoping to Glimpse the Rare Bird
By Karin Brulliard
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, February 2, 2006; B03
Mary Kaye Rubin arrived at Dulles International Airport yesterday fully
equipped: a warm green parka with tiny compass and thermometer. Her thick
copy of "The Sibley Guide to Birds." And a Swarovski spotting scope with a
20x60 zoom.
Standing on the top level of a windy parking garage, she peered through the
scope toward a western runway, where she could see a parcel service plane,
an airline catering van and the shadowy Blue Ridge Mountains -- but no snowy
owl.
"Honey, are you looking for the owl?" Rubin, 64, asked her husband, whose
eyes, she said, are sharper than hers.
"Yep," muttered Marv Rubin, 66, who was standing behind her, peering into
his scope.
There was reason to look, and to hope. When the Rubins had arrived home the
night before from a trip out of town, Mary Kay Rubin logged on to the
VA-BIRD listserv on her computer and was hit by an avalanche of ecstatic
posts. From Saturday onward, fellow birders reported, a bird more common to
arctic tundras had been hanging out at Dulles: a rare snowy owl.
"This was my first Virginia Snowy Owl, and it is a beauty," one person
wrote.
According to Susan Heath, a George Mason University doctoral student who
posted directions to the garage on the listserv after securing permission
from airport security, this was a big one for local birders. The large,
hoary birds with piercing yellow eyes are stunning, and they are also
relative strangers to these parts. They usually live in Canada, Heath said,
but are often forced south in winter when food gets scarce. Even then, they
usually choose coastal areas.
So when Heath's first posting about the Dulles owl went up, birders went
wild. As many as 75 people spotted it between Saturday and yesterday, she
said, and for many it was a "lifer" -- a first-time sighting, one to add to
their life lists.
"People are excited," she said. "It's a very pretty bird. Very charismatic."
The Rubins, retired federal workers from Alexandria, spotted a snowy owl at
Reagan National Airport a decade ago and another one in Delaware several
years back. Still, the listserv news got Mary Kay Rubin, 64, so enthused
that she stayed up until 2 a.m. yesterday, jotting down a list of details
about each sighting. She saw a pattern: The bird liked to reveal itself in
the afternoon. So here the couple was at 4:15 p.m., scopes pointed toward
the runway.
Gaylan and Jan Meyer, especially thirsty for a sighting, were taking a
different tack, walking around the garage roof looking every which way with
binoculars. A snowy owl would be a lifer for them. Plus, when the Dulles owl
news broke, they were in Cape May, N.J., where they took a half-day owling
course that included a trip to a swampy area known as a "very owly place,"
said Gaylan Meyer, 61, a retiree from Oakton. Yet they saw zip for owls.
Larry Meade, a Fairfax County schools employee and board member of the
Northern Virginia Bird Club, strolled up and offered another dash of hope.
He had seen the owl twice over the weekend.
"In the day, he tends to hang out on the runway," Meade, 43, told the
Rubins, pointing south. "But he's been known to land on the tails of those
planes."
The wind blew hard. The birders kept looking. Meade assured them the bird
was there, somewhere.
"Where are you?" Mary Kaye Rubin sang to the elusive owl.
Miraculously, it appeared to work.
"He's flying!" she shouted, pointing toward the southern sky. "Here he is! I
got him! He just landed on a light post!"
And there the owl was. Through the lens of the super-strong spotter, it
barely looked visible, a white sphere perched on a tiny sign. Marv Rubin
estimated that it might have been a mile away.
"He's got a huge wingspan! Can you see him?" Mary Kaye Rubin shouted.
Everyone could.
Jan Meyer, 54, grinned, her red hood pulled tightly around her face.
Birding, she said, is like antiquing. You search and search, mostly finding
common junk, hoping for the bargain treasures.
"It's a life bird for $5," she said. A life bird for the price of one hour
of parking.
Staff writer D'vera Cohn contributed to this report.
© 2006 The Washington Post Company
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