When I bird in Florida, I’m ever scanning fence posts and power lines in hopes of seeing Loggerhead Shrikes. 

Shrikes are predacious songbirds, but that’s not very exceptional—so are chickadees, robins, and bluebirds, the insects and worms they eat being very much animals. Shrikes feed on small lizards, birds, and mammals as well as insects, but so do some crows, ravens, and even large flycatchers. The difference is that shrikes eat meat almost exclusively, with physical and behavioral adaptations unique among songbirds. The hooked beak tip and sharp notch near the tip help grab and sever the spinal cord of small vertebrates. When a shrike bites off more than it can chew in one meal, so to speak, it can impale whole prey or parts on thorns or barbed wire, or wedge it into the fork of a branch, both for easier killing and for longer-term storage. This habit led to the family nickname, “butcherbirds.” 

The proportionally large head of all shrikes is particularly highlighted in the Loggerhead Shrike’s name, a synonym for “blockhead.” Of the 30 or so species in the family, only the Loggerhead is entirely restricted to North America. It’s a little smaller and daintier than the Northern Shrikes we see up here in winter. And Loggerhead Shrikes eat fewer rodents and birds, focusing heavily on grasshoppers.

Loggerhead Shrikes used to be fairly regularly seen in southern Wisconsin and Minnesota, but they declined drastically through the last half of the twentieth century. They’ve essentially vanished from the northeastern part of their range and continue to decline everywhere else. The subspecies on San Clemente Island in California is listed as endangered on the federal list.

I’ve visited Florida almost every year since our son Joe moved there in 2003. I have a much harder time finding them now than I used to down there, and the steep decline shown in Breeding Bird Survey numbers for Loggerhead Shrikes in Florida between 1966 and 2010 bears graphic testament to my experience. I find it endlessly frustrating that despite the dramatic decline virtually everywhere, they aren’t on the federal list for endangered, or at least threatened, species.

Overall, Loggerhead Shrikes seem a little calmer in the presence of gawking birders than Northern Shrikes usually are, but even they are a bit skittish. In January I came upon one while on a pleasant drive from Titusville to New Smyrna Beach in Florida. It had caught a large grasshopper and was starting to eat it. I stopped momentarily when I spotted it and snapped a few photos from my car window, but I did not want to risk frightening off the little predator, especially since he might have lost the morsel, so I drove on. We humans haven’t left them much space and our pesticides kill many of their prey, but these handsome songbirds deserve our respect and affection.

Several years ago, I realized that by just adding a properly placed space, I could transform Super Bowl Sunday into Superb Owl Sunday. Last year Russ and I were in New York City visiting our daughter Katie and her S.O. Michael on the big day. We decided to head out to Breezy Point Tip on the city’s ocean front to at least get out into the wild for a while, when what to our wondering eyes should appear but two Snowy Owls! One was a very mature adult male, his plumage snow white. I’ll never forget that thrilling and unforgettable day, even richer for sharing it with my family.

This year I was certain things couldn’t possibly go that well ever again on Superb Owl Sunday, but figured I might be able to see an owl somewhere. During the past two weeks, Boreal Owls have been appearing all over between Duluth and Two Harbors, and a few weeks ago, Ryan Brady even had one in his yard in Washburn, Wisconsin, and so birders from all over the country are descending upon Duluth to see them. Boreal Owls periodically “irrupt”—that is, large numbers of them suddenly appear well south of their breeding range. This is a well-known, if rare, phenomenon. Birders rejoice, because except in rare years like this, this secretive owl is one of the hardest of all regularly occurring North American birds to add to a lifelist, but it’s a mixed blessing because the adorable little predators are so desperately hungry that they must hunt at midday, usually coming up empty. Tour groups are seeing as many as seven in a single day, but I feel like I’m gawking at someone in their time of misfortune, so I seldom go out to look for them.

But yesterday being Superb Owl Sunday, my doing a big year, and Russ and I having a couple of free hours, we headed up to Two Harbors. I was hoping we’d luck into spotting a Boreal Owl tucked into a conifer somewhere along the scenic highway—owls hiding out in spruces and cedars probably had successful hunting the night before. It’s tricky to spot one when zipping by in heavy traffic, but when so many birders are afield searching, one may spot a pack of birders already watching one. Russ and I had no such luck, so when we got to Two Harbors, we headed straight to Fourth Avenue—there’s a 2- or 3-block alley behind the houses there where I’ve seen Boreal Owls several times in the past. We spotted seven deer, including a handsome buck, but didn’t hear or see a single chickadee, much less a Boreal Owl.

Right as we were growing discouraged, from the road above, one of my birding friends spotted me and drove down to the alley to tell us about a saw-whet owl he’d seen just a few blocks away. If I were to come up with a top ten list of my favorite birders in the world, Jim Lind would definitely be on it. He’s a great and generous birder who produces our area’s weekly rare bird reports and compiles the Duluth Christmas Bird Count. In years like this, Jim spends his free time searching out good birds in Two Harbors, and obviously goes out of his way to help other birders see them. And he has the best Boreal Owl Karma of anyone in the known universe. He hadn’t spotted one yet in Two Harbors on this Superb Owl Sunday, but the even tinier owl he’d spotted a little while before was a great sighting. We chatted for a few minutes, until he had to be going and we were ready to move on for the Saw-whet. We said our goodbyes, and right as he was turning away, his eyes locked on a Boreal Owl only about 15 feet away! Right there in the open, right beside us!

The left foot appears to be injured, though s/he managed to catch and carry a shrew.

Right when I was feeling sadder than joyful to be witnessing such intense hunger, the little owl plunged into the snow and pulled out a fairly large shrew. 

Going off to eat in peace!

Northern Saw-whet Owl

Total miles for day: 65. New species bringing total for year to 188:

1. Boreal Owl
2. Northern Saw-whet Owl