Snowy owls are a treat: ‘I’m getting to see something beautiful that billions of people have never seen.’

Li’s camera and camouflage-wrapped telephoto lens are focused on the female owl hunkered down, nearly a football field away, in the dunes at Duxbury Beach Reservation.
It doesn’t matter that the temperature is 19 degrees, the wind is whipping at 20 miles per hour, and the wind chill is 4 degrees. Li wants to get the Holy Grail of owl pictures: a snowy owl with its 5-foot wingspan flying in fresh snow.
The snowy owl has stayed in the exact spot for more than an hour, napping and preening like it is Hedwig grooming for a “Harry Potter” movie sequel.
A snowy owl chases some terrified ducks in Duxbury Bay. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
Li stays focused. He keeps his gloved finger on the shutter button. Hypothermia be damned.
“I don’t care how cold it is, I don’t want to miss the shot,” he says.
Advertisement
Li, who works in the medical field in Baltimore, is among those who flock to Massachusetts hoping to spot the winter visitor.
Snowy owls, the largest owl in North America by body mass, travel 3,000 miles from the Arctic Circle to escape the harsh conditions of winter. (Note to federal immigration agents: They are not invading from Greenland and will return home in April.)
Severe cold doesn’t bother our feathered friends. They’re used to temperatures of minus 80 degrees. For them, this is like going to the Caribbean on winter vacation.
Birders and photographers watch a snowy owl way in the distance at the Duxbury Beach Reservation, They are not allowed to get closer than 150 feet, about half a football field away. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
Here, Snowy Owl Mania contributes to the 200 vehicles in the main beach parking lot on weekends. Off-season permits for vehicles to drive the four-mile dirt road between the bay and the ocean cost $175 for out-of-towners. Duxbury this year has sold 193, compared to 43 last year.
Park rangers keep their eyes on the owls. They make sure everyone follows the rules: Keep 150 feet away (half a football field); do not walk on the dunes or try to get a rise out of the birds.
“If an owl is head bobbing, changing location, or fidgeting then you are too close!” reads one sign.
Mei Qin and friends have come from San Francisco. They don’t have a permit so they walk eight miles roundtrip with their heavy gear.
Advertisement
When she finally sees the snowy owl she is giddy.
A snowy owl blends in with the fresh snow at the Duxbury Beach Reservation. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
“Oh, I love him. The first time I saw him or her. It’s so cute. It’s a little bit far away. I’m hoping it can come closer.”
With few exceptions, birders and amateur photographers are very respectful and conscious of the birds’ needs.
“It is no secret at this point that Duxbury Beach has been a very popular spot to view owls,” says Joey Negreann, the reservation’s coordinator, in an email.
The South Shore town is not the only spot to see a snowy owl.
Salisbury Beach State Reservation has digital signs up urging people not to harass wildlife.
Their wings are silent, and their beaks are hooked and used for grabbing their prey and tearing flesh. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
“How many owls there are in Massachusetts is hard to say,” Norman Smith, raptor specialist for Mass Audubon, says by email. ”Between the North Shore, Greater Boston, Cape Cod, and the Islands many are nomadic and constantly on the go. I would guess 20–25 have either passed through on their journey further south or are still in the state.”
Smith is well-known for making sure the owls don’t get stuck at Logan Airport, whose location is deal with lots of water and plenty of food, especially ducks.
“They eat just about anything from rodents, rabbits, muskrats, small birds, waterfowl, gulls, other raptors, and we even had one kill and eat a great blue heron.”
Since 1981, he’s rescued over 900 snowy owls from Logan, including 12 this year relocated to Duxbury, he says.
On a recent three-day visit, this news photographer found that shooting wildlife is its own art form. Braving the cold, watching a “Snowie” from so far away (over 100 yards) that it looks like a Q-tip, is not glamorous.
Advertisement
A male snowy owl touches down at the Duxbury Beach Reservation after enjoying a meal. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
Photographing the Snowie in flight takes patience and planning. The birders have some tips. Snowies often poop before they fly, they say, so be ready. They also usually fly into the wind.
On the first day, I got skunked when the Snowie launched the other way giving me a wiggling butt shot. The next day, I sat in the car with the door wide open and the heat blasting. A gust of wind blew the door closed right on my forehead.
Another time, after I drove the pot-holed filled road, Snowie gave me the slip. He may, or may not, have flipped me his middle talon as he flew directly over my head.
On my third try, the road had been graded but it had also snowed and was a sheet of ice.
Two female snowy owls have a quick fight before one goes off to hunt prey. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
The beach crossovers are closed because the chain locks are frozen solid. The “Hot Hands” are lukewarm, feet frozen, fingers stinging and the nose is running like a scene out of Aqualung. The wind is roaring so loud that it almost drowns out the voice of the undefeatable bird photographer.
Where do the photographers get their patience?
“I’m getting to see something beautiful that billions of people have never seen and I don’t have to travel to the Arctic to do it,” one says.
Fair enough. Note to self: Stop whining.
Photographers travel from all over the country to photograph the snowy owl. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
Late in the afternoon, one female Snowie who was resting in the snowy marsh, suddenly hops to attention before getting dive-bombed by another female Snowie. There is a momentary tussle and both fly off. One of the females then attacks a gull, forcing it to dive into the water. Then the Snowie terrorizes a flock of ducks in the bay.
Advertisement
Moments before sundown, with the golden light kissing the beach, this Snowie flies straight for the camera. Its eyes are clear amber and its powerful wings spread out like Celtics center Kristaps Porziņģis defending the rim. She is strikingly beautiful with her white feathers, speckled in black and brown. She appears to have a little half smile. It is pure magic, the best of planet Earth.
A snowy owl in the sea grass at Duxbury Beach right after a snowstorm. Stan Grossfeld/Globe Staff
Stan Grossfeld can be reached at stanley.grossfeld@globe.com.