by Frank Keim
If you’re out hunting or walking on the tundra, you may see large flocks of Snow buntings drifting like giant snowflakes over open country. If you’re lucky and you stay completely still, they may land nearby and begin feeding on the grass and sedge seeds that are found everywhere in autumn. You will also see that they have changed color from their bright black and white spring suit to a more cinnamon and white winter coat. They are getting ready to migrate, but unless the temperatures remain very cold for a long time, snow buntings won’t travel very far south of their summer nesting grounds in western Alaska.
But let’s talk facts. First, names.
Their scientific name is Plectrophenax nivalis, which comes from Greek, plektron, meaning a claw-like tool for striking a stringed instrument called a lyre, in this case referring to the snow bunting’s long straight hind claw. Phenax is Greek for false, because the bird’s claw isn’t really used to play the lyre. Nivalis, is the Latin word for snowy, which refers to its color and Arctic home range.
As for Yup’ik names, in Scammon Bay, the words I learned, Uksullaraq and Uksurtaq, both meaning a bird of winter. In Hooper Bay and Marshall, the name, Kanguruaq refers to something that resembles a snow goose, Kanguq, which in turn means something that has a frosty appearance. There is yet another name that they use on Nunivak Island, Cilumcuksugaq, which loosely translates as, “the one who has an icy shirt on.” Anyway you cut it, all of these Yup’ik names have to do with winter. And why not? This tough little bird nests farther north than any other songbird, including the raven, then spends the winter in cold country as well. It can endure temperatures of minus 60 degrees Fahrenheit and, like redpolls, burrows in the snow to keep warm.
In spring, when their plumage has returned to black and white, the male puts on a mating display that reminds me a little of the Lapland longspur’s. While fluttering in the air or perched on a rock or tall tundra tussock called a “nunapik,” he earnestly sings in a broken twittering warble, hoping to attract a lady-love who will continue his family line into the distant future. After he finds her, she builds their nest on the grassy tundra or a rocky beach and lays up to nine streaked pale blue eggs, which she also incubates alone. After two weeks or so, the eggs hatch, and two weeks later the young fly for the first time. Meanwhile, the male remains nearby, doing his best to guard his family against attacks from jaegers and other predators. If the young make it through their crazy teen months, they might live as many as eight or nine years, which is a long time for a small bird.
In the Arctic regions of Canada and Alaska, Snow buntings are regarded with such high respect by the Inuit people that they build nest boxes for them. It’s a traditional practice that stems from the belief that these birds have spiritual significance and bring good fortune to those who build them. The nest boxes are scrupulously maintained and cleaned regularly and, as a result, the birds reuse them year after year. According to Inuit elders, before construction wood was commonly available, families heaped stones together and fashioned special cavities to attract nesting birds. Arctic Inuit peoples call this little winter bird, Kopenuaq.
