I seldom interject my opinions into mou-related matters, but given both real and perceived controversies within the owl (and human) community, felt a different perspective of the irruption was warranted.
Reading recent posts has been interesting, amusing, and frustrating. There have been attempts to justify intrusive human behavior at the individual and group levels; define owl stress (it depends on what your definition of "is" "is"); explain the intricacies of owl behavior; label the irruption as a wonderful migration; and, to describe the hypnotic spell cast by a roosting owl. Recently, detailed instructions for medical intervention have appeared along with the suggestion that the Raptor Center should act as a repository for dying owls who, whether you want to accept it or not, should die. Trust me, I don't make a statement like this with disregard for others or their feelings or perceptions. Nor do I say this as an insensitive, data-gathering biologist, although some will certainly come to those conclusions. Nineteen years with a nocturnal species, afterall, has afforded me a great deal of humility. During those 19 years (spring, some summers, and now winters), I have recorded data, quantified habitat, watched courtship behaviors, radio-tagged breeding adults, spent hundreds of hours in steadfast observation, watched the first flights of young owls, and watched nests flourish and lately, disappear. I have felt fortunate. I have felt cursed. After "participating" in the last 5 irruptions (1989, 1993, 1996, 1997, and 2001), however, I can truthfully say that I loathe irruption years because during irruption years, owls die. Then again, during irruption years, owls are supposed to die. I accept that. I don't like it, but I accept it. Irruptions are about owl biology and the Strigidaen response to small mammal population cycles. Much of this "machinery" occurs far to our north and we just happen to be proximal to a large, diverting body of water which ends most north-south movements of owls and conveniently, increases their visibility. The death of irruptive owls - the genetic elimination of those individuals unable to utilize resources in an unfamiliar landscape - is unfortunate, but is a function of life in the northern latitudes. Ultimately, these deaths will serve boreal and other owl species, well (a.k.a. survival of the fittest). As bleak as irruptions are, without them, boreal owls in Minnesota will move towards localized extinction. We need the irruptions; rather, the survivors of the irruptions to supplement/replace/enhance the individual and genetic presence in landscapes once rich with boreals but now, alarmingly void of them. Is extinction the direction Minnesota's boreals are headed? My involvement with the species is but a brief window but consider this: only one successful nest has been documented in the last 3 years and the number of singing (i.e. breeding-ready) male owls has declined from an approximate annual average of 35 (1987-90; including the 1989 irruption) to an approximate annual average of 6 (2001-04; including the 2001 irruption). If you are trying to sustain a population, a decrease in the number of adults is not the way to do it. But what if the irruption works as "it is supposed to", there are a number of individuals that survive, yet the North Woods landscape no longer has sufficient resources to support the influx? In northeast Minnesota, those resources are diverse mixes of old forest aspen for nesting and large tracts of lowland spruce for roosting and foraging. Unfortunately, most of the cavity trees selected by boreal owls for courtship and/or nesting (approximately 80 since 1988) are gone. With the loss of cavity trees has come a noticeable decrease in boreal owls. Is that a relationship or a coincidence? I suggest there is a tangible relationship, especially since the proportions of lowlands within the landscape have changed little from the tracts I first observed in 1987. Furthermore, despite concerted efforts, a "smarter" observer approach, and more time in the field during the breeding season, there is scant evidence that alternative cavity trees are being located or utilized by boreals. In other words, owls that survive an irruption might do wonders for the genetic composition of our metapopulations, but if critical habitat resources are limited, or absent, there will be no reason for the owls to call northern Minnesota home. Regardless of ones' approach to the current irruption, my greatest concern is not how individual owls are treated, how excited the birding community becomes every fourth winter, what economic rewards come locally or individually, what correct or incorrect information is presented, what intervention occurs, who has the final say on birding and ethics and decorum in our North Woods, or who saw the most owls. Instead, my concern is that Minnesota's resident boreal owl population is in trouble and our collective focus should always be towards the spring and when and where owls reproduce, and not the irruptive winters, when owls die. Respectfully, Bill Lane ****** FYI: I will be speaking at the MRVAC January meeting on the 27th of January. Information may be found at : http://home.comcast.net/~mrvac/trumpeter.htm [email protected] www.mindspring.com/~owlman
