Finland is the unlikely destination for avid bird watchers in search of the majestic owl
The voles, Leena’s email says, are numerous.
It’s what we’ve been waiting to hear all through the Northern winter. Her earlier reports on Finland’s vole population contained a map of the country, colour-coded to indicate the vole density. We are happy for the voles (small mouse-like rodents), but what we’re really interested in is their predator: Owls.
Over 20 years ago, an encounter with the Mountain Gorillas in Africa’s Virunga Mountains turned us into ardent amateur naturalists. Our initial interest was in charismatic mammals — lions, tigers, and bears. Over time, the sheer variety and beauty of avian life forms turned us into avid bird watchers. Raptors, birds of prey, are special to us. The love of birds that hunt for food primarily on the wing using their keen senses fits the DNA of my career: A trader in financial markets, where you eat what you kill.
Over the years, we have seen around 1,500 species of birds (there are over 9,000) and about 20 percent of the world’s 340 major raptors. We have been lucky enough to see many hallmark species of owls, perhaps the most specialised and magnificent of all raptor — Eagle Owls, Spectacled Owls, Burrowing Owls, Scops Owls and Barn Owls. Finland with its concentration of difficult-to-see owls has always been on our “bucket list”.
In a good year, Finland provides the opportunity to see many species of owls. In spring, the owls gather in the forests and woodlands around Oulu, to mate and breed. A high population of voles provides the essential food supply for young chicks, and so, more chances of seeing owls.
Finnature (where Leena works), the eco-tourism company who have arranged our trip, are optimistic; with Finnish reticence, they write that they hope it will be a “good year” for owls.
In early spring, guides search out nests, relying on owl calls and sightings, generally at night. They can then take tourists, mainly bird-watchers and amateur nature photographers, to known nest sites. Toni, our Finnish guide, jokes that in Finland you know where there is an owl nest by the number of assembled photographer’s bird hides nearby.
In May 2011, when we made our trip, we didn’t know it, but there was a Eurasian Eagle Owl nesting a few hundred metres from our hotel in downtown Helsinki. The chicks had just about fledged and frequently fell out of their nests, bringing traffic to a standstill. Wildlife rangers had to intervene, picking up the chicks and placing them back in their nests each time. Eagle Owls are the largest of European owls, 60–70 centimetres in height, with a wingspan of 1.3–1.7 metres in flight. Their appearance in an urban setting is the result of easy prey: A large population of rabbits, pets which had been released or escaped and colonised city parks. Unfortunately, we never got to see this species.
Our owl sightings around Oulu, a mid-sized town on the Gulf of Bothnia, in the West of Finland, are more in keeping with the traditional etiquette of bird watching. Within a few hours of landing there, we see a magnificent Great Grey Owl female on her nest, incubating her eggs. In profile, the large bird, some 60 centimetres high, looks like a steamship funnel because of her flat, square head. She looks stately, staring at us through yellow eyes framed by white crescent moon shaped ‘eyebrows’ and a black chin. Generally, you can see the male owl, usually resting on a branch near the nest. He brings food to the female; once the chicks have hatched, he may need to catch around 10 voles a day to keep his mate and the brood fed, until the chicks are ready to leave the nest. But though we visit the site twice, we never see the male, except for a distant glimpse of pale feathers. Later groups are luckier.
We visit nest sites for Northern Hawk Owls, Ural Owls, and Tengmalm’s Owls and see the females. The view depends on the nest. One Ural Owl nest is high in the tree, all we are afforded is a glimpse of mottled brown tail feathers through a spotting scope set at 60 times magnification. We wait, but she does not move, limiting our view. Nor does the male appear.
At dusk one day, our guides use a different method: Owl calls. We travel along a forest road and at selected spots, we play an MP3 player with pre-recorded birdcalls. A Pygmy Owl’s high pitched “chuuk, chuuk, chuuck” issues from the speakers, audible for up to a kilometre. At the second location, we are immediately successful: A male Pygmy Owl, all of 15 centimetres high and perhaps 40–50 grams, flies in to check out the challenger to his territorial claims. The owl has a brown breast and white belly thinly streaked with brown. The owl’s head is grey brown with tiny white spots signalling that it is an adult. Bold in spite of its size, the owls are capable of killing voles and small birds larger than themselves.
The viewing is sometimes enlivened by action. Ural Owls are rare visitors to Finland, only appearing when voles are plentiful. At a box in tree, placed to encourage owls to nest, Toni imitates the noises that a Pine Marten would make on the tree. Martens are weasel-like mammals, about the size of a small cat that feed on eggs and chicks. The noise usually causes the owl, if it is in residence, to poke its head out to assess the source of the sound. The technique has risks. Ural Owls, with their beautiful pale buff colours, straw coloured beak and black eyes, look deceptively gentle, but they can be very aggressive, especially in the vicinity of a nest. In an apocryphal story, a guide asked his group to wait while he went to check out a known Ural Owl nest. Shortly, the waiting birders heard the sounds of someone running through the scrub. It was the guide, pursued by an enraged Ural Owl, which repeatedly buzzed his head. With characteristic understatement, one British birder noted that they had a good view of the Ural Owl “in flight”.
(This story appears in the 12 August, 2011 issue of Forbes India. To visit our Archives, click here.)