The science and sanctity of snow buntings | GUEST COMMENTARY

Every year around this time a diminutive and delicate-looking bird, about the size of a common house sparrow, shows up in small groups at North Point State Park in Baltimore County, on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. The bird is the snow bunting — so named both for its predominantly snow-white plumage and amazing ability to withstand snow and subfreezing weather in its breeding grounds in the Arctic tundra. It has also been nicknamed the “snowflake” bird.

Although snow buntings have been reported at North Point for many years, this was the first year I saw them; they were hopping around in the grass near the rocky riprap that protects the long pier at the park. They are fleeting seasonal visitors — never far from cold weather — and remarkably able to withstand temperatures as low as 30 degrees below zero in their Arctic habitat. In order to survive they will burrow into the snow, and when migrating through northerly latitudes will consume dead bugs and shriveled berries to fuel the journey.

Snow buntings are the northernmost passerine (perching) bird and have been reported at the North Pole. Their hardiness and vitality have earned them much reverence among the Inuit of Alaska and Canada, who believe the birds have spiritual significance and bring good fortune to those who build nest boxes for them, according to the Alaska Native Knowledge Network.

My visit took place on a blustery day when a photograph by a visitor from Arlington, Trista Nealon, captured one of the buntings with its winged feathers delicately swept up by the gusts of wind. The photograph brought to mind the notion of an angel just starting to sprout its wings. So often when I quiet my restless mind and observe such wonders, I am prompted to a sort of pantheism, a notion that God is manifest in nature. This view is reflected in the 13th-century writings of St. Francis of Assisi, the 17th-century Dutch philosopher Spinoza, and, in contemporary times, Albert Einstein.

In an oft-quoted article that appeared nearly a century ago in the New York Times Magazine (Religion and Science, Nov. 9, 1930), Einstein wrote of what he called the “cosmic religious feeling” emphasizing the importance of art and science in communicating this:  “How can cosmic religious feeling be communicated from one person to another, if it can give rise to no definite notion of a God and no theology? In my view, it is the most important function of art and science to awaken this feeling and keep it alive in those who are receptive to it.”

How can anyone who considers the capacity of birds to withstand extreme weather not marvel at the way in which evolution has over time created such a dazzling and diverse array of living beings?

The cold-hardy characteristics of snow buntings are similar to those of other birds that endure frigid weather. This brings to mind a question that has long occurred to me as I trundle through winter wearing warm socks and boots: Why don’t birds get cold feet?  According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, birds do get very cold feet: “The surface temperature of their toes may be barely above freezing as the bird maintains its core body temperature about 100 Fahrenheit. But most birds don’t succumb to frostbite because there is so little fluid in the cells of their feet, and their feet are mostly tendons and bones with little muscle or nerve tissue.”

Although the snow bunting is still not considered endangered, the Christmas Bird Count data has shown a more than 60% decline in North American populations over the last 40 years, according to the American Bird Conservancy. Given that most of the snow bunting’s breeding grounds are not near human activities, the cause of this decline is mysterious.  Scientists speculate that a warming climate may be resulting in earlier insect abundance that is out of sync with the birds’ need for peak food availability during the breeding season. Other possible contributors to the decline may be the use of the neonicotinoid class of pesticides since they forage in cultivated fields during the winter. And like so many other nocturnal migrants, snow buntings are at risk of death from collision with built structures including wind turbines.

If snow buntings and other marvels of nature are seen as manifestations of an over-arching natural order, then protecting these and other birds and creatures may be seen as honoring the sacred. Perhaps — just perhaps — if this “cosmic religious feeling” becomes predominant, humans will take seriously our responsibility to safeguard the world.

Richard B. Karel (rkarel@gmail.com) is a freelance writer living in Baltimore and an avid bird-watcher and amateur naturalist.