Boundary Bay, the Lower Mainland’s birding heartland, is making headlines this winter. The arrival of an unusually large number of snowy owls has attracted a constant stream of people to this weather-beaten coastal marsh, a short drive south of Vancouver. The spectacle has been featured on the evening news and even rated a mention in the New York Times.

Nomadic, circumpolar snowy owls live in the high Arctic. In the west, they only disperse south every four to six years, in response to successful breeding years or slumps in lemming numbers. This winter, an extreme southward irruption has occurred right across North America, with owls being seen as far south as the Columbia River and Kansas. Local snowies are concentrated in two Delta hot spots: about 20 are hanging out just west of the 72 Street entrance to the Boundary Bay dike, and a smaller number are at Brunswick Point, at the mouth of the Fraser River. A short stroll from the car park, the enormous white birds are easily spotted as they sit on logs in the tidal salt marsh, their golden eyes alert, and their heads occasionally swiveling to watch the action.

Birdwatchers, photographers, the curious public, and fans of Harry Potter are all visiting. The dynamics of the watching crowds have evolved in the weeks since the owls arrived and reflect some of the conflicting issues that arise around nature and recreation in our increasingly crowded environment. The first snowies were spotted in mid November, alerting birdwatchers to the likelihood of an irruption winter. Sure enough, one morning they were all suddenly in the marsh, having made the long flight from the Arctic on their huge silent wings. Boundary Bay is a regular wintering area for the species, although since many of the owls are young birds, this will be their first visit south. Listservs swiftly relayed the news to interested birders and photographers, and the media popularized the event. Crowds began to gather.

One initial concern for birdwatchers and Metro Vancouver Parks was the large number of photographers tramping into the marsh and clustering around groups of owls. Although most kept a respectful distance, a few were so keen for an action photo that they harassed owls into flight. Flying costs energy; the owls sit and rest most of the day, hunting at night for waterfowl. Another problem was the coincidence with the waterfowl hunting season. Families enjoying a holiday trip to see the snowies were startled by shotgun fire from hunters out at the tide line, in what looks like a protected area. Criticizing over-zealous photographers suddenly seemed inappropriate when ducks were dropping from the sky (and not all being picked up—while some hunters are shooting for the pot, others just target shoot). Meanwhile, oblivious to the guns popping along the shoreline, kite boarders took to the waves just off shore, putting up clouds of waterfowl. This frenetic concentration of recreational activity all occurred within a square kilometre. A short distance further in either direction, along the 22-kilometre Boundary Bay dike trail, all was quiet.

The jurisdiction of the area is complicated, adding to the confusion. Metro Vancouver Parks is responsible for the dike trail, which is part of the Boundary Bay Regional Park, but not for the salt marsh, which is in the Boundary Bay Wildlife Management Area. This sensitive and important habitat is provincial jurisdiction, once under B.C. Parks, but now under the auspices of the Fish and Wildlife Branch of the new Ministry of Forests, Lands and Natural Resource Operations. Owl awareness signs went up along the dike, temporary washrooms appeared, and Metro Vancouver Parks did some weekend interpretation, while the municipality of Delta, responsible for 72 Street, sent a work crew to grade the increasingly pot-holed road (it reverted to its dismal state a few days later). A provincial conservation officer even came down to check on hunters’ bag limits.

Since the holiday period, the area has calmed down, although there is still a steady stream of visitors. Many of the hunters pushed off to Brunswick Point, where there are fewer visitors as the owls sit further from the trail, deep in the marsh. Almost all photographers at 72 Street are now staying on the dike, except on sunny mornings, when the sun shines low in the south, driving them back into the marsh. The collective mores has become one of quiet, calm observation. People simply enjoy the beautiful owls; the spectacular bay scenery, ringed by snow-capped mountains and distant islands; the clouds of shorebirds and waterfowl, dipping and weaving as they are chased by falcons and eagles; the dun-coloured marshes; and even the cold wind sweeping across the delta.

The amazing snowy owl winter has shown us what a tremendous interest Canadians have in the natural world, and what a strong draw such wildlife events can be. Nor is the interest confined to locals—the owls are delighting people from as far away as Europe and Japan. Visitors often want more information on the owls, such as how long they are staying (probably until March), what they eat (birds and rodents), or how do you tell males from females (males are very white). If the province is interested in capitalizing on the region’s ecotourism potential, then government agencies need to be well-prepared to deal with both the questions and the recreational conflicts that arise. Mostly, people just work it all out for themselves.

Anne Murray is the author of two books on the natural history of Boundary Bay, A Nature Guide to Boundary Bay and Tracing Our Past: A Heritage Guide to Boundary Bay, both available at bookstores or from www.natureguidesbc.com.