SNOWY NO SHOWY – FULL HUNGER MOON

        The rising, Full Snow or Full Hunger Moon, February, 2012 Phippsburg, Maine

Corona around the February full moon with reflection across Totman Cove, 2012

This is how the corona is created by moonlight. 

 

Bubo scandiacus

The Snowy owl is also called the Ghost Owl, Tundra Ghost, Ookpik or Uppik (Inuit of Alaska), and White Terror of the North. I have my own name for the Snowy owl, "Avis provocateur."

Photographed at Maine Audubon Society program on owls 2009

     The Algonquin, a Native American tribe from what is now the northern and eastern United States, gave distinctive names to each of the recurring full moons. They did this partially to keep track of the seasons. The January full moon was called the Wolf Moon. Outside of Indian villages, packs of hungry wolves howled at the moon while roving on the cold snow pack. Some tribes called the January moon the Full Snow Moon, but most reserved this for the following moon.

     The heaviest snow usually falls in February, so our second full moon of the year was called the Full Snow Moon.  Harsh weather made hunting very difficult, so some tribes called this the Full Hunger Moon. It sends a chill through me when I imagine what that must have meant for people living so close to the earth. To see the full moon ringed with color must have been especially terrifying.
     A halo or corona around the full moon is an uncommon sight. It can only happen, at most, twelve times a year. Of those twelve times, conditions have to be just right. The effect occurs when rays of sunlight (moon light is reflected sunlight) pass through water in the form of ice crystals or droplets in clouds preceding a weather front.  Native Americans would have known that it meant foul weather coming, too. They would have been able to speculate how long before the snow fell by how many stars were visible between the colored ring and the moon.
      In addition to fear, full moons are traditionally associated with insomnia and insanity, hence the word lunatic. When I worked in hospitals, especially on the third shift, we steeled ourselves for anticipated droves of patients coming into the emergency room. Sometimes this panned out, but often a full moon shift would just be one more, dull, long night. Scientific studies do not support that there is any more craziness taking place on the planet on full moon nights than any other.
     I can say that this January and February I have been driven a little crazy, full moon or not. January boasted one of the greatest shows of Northern Lights on the planet, yet I did not catch one bit of it. I tried. Many nights, I stayed up or got up from bed and went outside to check, freezing my keister off. Like a hungry wolf, I stalked the night sky for the Aurora Borealis to no avail. Then, clouds rolled in for days obliterating any chance of it or a sighting of the full, Wolf Moon.
     Toward the end of January and now, into February, the birding internet has been ablaze with chatter about the greatest irruption of Snowy owls in all of ornithology history. Newspapers and television have carried pieces. Even Joe Average, non-birder knows about the irruption of Snowys by now.
     In addition to outstanding numbers of reports of Snowy owls, we have had a remarkably mild winter. Warm temperature records have been broken all over the place. We’ve barely had any snow, either. Joe Average has been overheard to say that the reason the owls are here is because it’s been so warm.
     But, probably the real reason is because the owls’ food source crashed. In the northern most reaches of the planet, the owls eat mostly small rodents called lemmings. It’s likely that the rodent population plummeted due to disease as a cyclic event. The Snowy owls may have had a really good nesting year, too. More owls with less available food means packing up and heading south for food.  But, I have another theory: The elusive Aurora Borealis and the Snowy owls have all come from the north to drive me crazy. Science may not bear out that the full moon provokes insanity, but I can tell you that personally, it does.
     In my life, I have seen two Snowy owls in the wild. Both times were nearly forty years ago. Each time, I was driving at night through snow storms and alone. Like apparitions, the birds appeared from the darkness and flew in front of my car. Illuminated by the headlights, they looked other worldly, like great, winged ghosts. I was startled and though the car’s heater was blasting, a chill went through me. I was at once filled with wonderment. The spectral birds bewitched me; I’d seen something magical and was hooked forever.
     Four decades later, I’m still hungry for the sight of an ethereal Snowy owl. Escalating reports of the birds ferociously stokes my appetite, too! There have been reports of at least five Snowy owls within ten miles of here. Three different birds have been reported on Popham Beach. That’s so close I can hear the surf from my house.
     I have made many frantic trips over there to find the birds. I’ve staggered out of bed before sunrise, nauseous and haggard, but focused. With neither hair nor teeth brushed, my bloodshot eyes swimming like stewed tomatoes in buttermilk, I’ve raced to beat the sunrise to the beach. I’ve hoped to catch the birds starting their morning hunt, but the only one hunting has been me. No less maddening than the dead end trips is to then read on the birding internet that yet another one has been spotted by some other birder within mere miles. It's left me sleepless and dreaming of Snowy owls. It has, indeed been my Full Hunger Moon!
     Our largest, North American owl, the Snowy stands two feet tall with wings that spread six feet! They are fantastic hunters and are regarded by some as symbolic of bravery. Because they can see in the dark, the Snowy owl of legend is believed to help people to see truths.
     If not brave in my pursuit of this phantasmagorical bird, I am persistent. I share with the owl that I will do what it takes and go where I must to feed my needs. And the truth is, that though sometimes frustrated, I will continue look to the sky for shooting stars, ribbons and rings of light and amazing birds.

For more on the irruption of Snowy owls in the United States, check out this link:

http://ebird.org/content/ebird/news/the-winter-of-the-snowy-owl

This blog was chosen as Editor's Pick on Open Salon. It is the thirteenth of my works to be so chosen.

Last Call- Just Pretty

The Harvest Moon signaling time to bring in the crops. There have already been frosts in Maine around Calais. Brrrrrrrrr!   Can you see the silhouette of the Gibson Girl in the face of the moon? She's on the right hand side. If you squint, you'll get a more impressionistic view and it may be easier for you to pick her out. Her chin is raised and she's smiling. The large dark areas form the top of her hair in the classic Gibson style.                                                                                                                                                   

This is Rudbeckia Flugida. It has glossy leaves. The Brown or Black Eyed Susans with fuzzy leaves and a floppier, more open habit are Rudbeckia Hirta. Hirta means hairy. Call'a me names like that and I'll have my cousin Vinny hirt'a you!

These are the last fruits of a vibrunum. I don't know which variety it is. There are viburnums which are native to the Maine woods. They are an important food source for birds and rodents. The birds have pretty well picked this one clean. The berries start out brilliant red then turn to black.

This is a Hydrangea bloom. I don't know the variety. The heads are the size of basketballs. Looking at the flowers close up reminds me of snow. BBBbbrrrrrrrrrrrr!