Northern Hawk Owl Sightings Near Houghton, Michigan: Rare Double Owl Encounter Documented

An Uncommon Visitor After the Christmas Bird Count

Since the Christmas Bird Count (CBC) that took place in mid-December 2024, a rare visitor has been spending time near my home in Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula: the Northern Hawk Owl (Surnia ulula). This species—abbreviated as “NHOW” by birders—is almost never seen this far south. When a friend of mine first reported seeing not one, but two Northern Hawk Owls near the same location, it sparked skepticism in the local birding community.

Why Northern Hawk Owls Are Rare in the Keweenaw

Northern Hawk Owls typically remain in boreal forests far north of Michigan. They only reach the Upper Peninsula during major 'irruption years'—occasional large-scale movements caused by food shortages. Even during those years, many raptors detour around Lake Superior, opting for more accessible areas in northern Wisconsin, Minnesota, or eastern Michigan. For two NHOWs to appear in the Keweenaw is nearly unheard of.

Eyewitness Accounts and Skepticism

Despite multiple sightings and photographic documentation, many in the birding community continued to express disbelief about the presence of two birds in close proximity to each other. This type of skepticism—often unfounded—frustrated those of us who had observed the birds firsthand. I even created a series of four images, switching rapidly between the two birds to demonstrate they were perched in different trees and locations, but some birders still demanded a single frame with both owls.

Could These Northern Hawk Owls Be Breeding?

The story took an even more exciting turn when one of the owls landed in a tree above my truck and began to sing. This vocalization could be a sign of breeding behavior, a potentially rare and historic event for Michigan. The only known attempt of NHOWs breeding in Michigan was documented on Isle Royale, much closer to their native range. If these owls are setting up territory in the Keweenaw, it could be a groundbreaking development.

Listen to the Call

The call that I was able to record begins with a series of 'bouncing notes' about four seconds into the recording. Another bout, arguably clearer, happens around the 50-second mark. Accompanying species in the recording include Black-capped Chickadees (Poecile atricapillus) and Bohemian Waxwings (Bombycilla garrulus), adding natural ambiance to the experience.

Obviously, it takes, both, a male and a female to make a breeding pair. So, just because one bird is singing doesn’t mean it will find a mate. The other individual might be the same sex, for instance. For this species, both sexes sing - so, we can’t even really tell if this singing individual is male or female.

Join Me for a Guided Bird Photography Experience

If you’d like to see rare birds like the Northern Hawk Owl and improve your photography skills in the process, consider booking a guided experience with me. I offer wildlife photography sessions and educational tours (https://www.teoliver.com/excursions-and-workshops) throughout the Keweenaw Peninsula. Whether you’re interested in winter raptors, boreal species, or storytelling through images, I can help you find, photograph, and learn about these incredible creatures.

A Rare Winter Worth Watching

This winter has been extraordinary—not just for these particular owls, but for all arctic and subarctic species that have arrived in the region. Snowy Owls, Great Gray Owls, Short-eared Owls, and more have been seen throughout the Great Lakes. It’s a perfect time to be outside with your camera and your curiosity. Join me - and let’s explore it together.

[Side Note: Although the date for this post is accurate for when this all occurred, I have actually delayed publishing it to my website and back-dated the post. I did this to fall in line with my desire to not release information too quickly because I value protecting the species I photograph. Releasing the information about the hawk-owl singing could have caused situations which would stress the bird unnecessarily].

Winter Wildlife Photography in Michigan’s Keweenaw: Coyote Sighting Near Eagle Harbor

The other day I led an excursion organized by Visit Keweenaw (our regional destination marketing organization) for some members of the Outdoor Writers Association of America. On this particular excursion, I was showing some of the people the beautiful winter landscapes we get in the Keweenaw. On snowshoes, we explored the area around Hungarian Falls. The snow filled forest and vista overlooking Torch Lake were breathtaking - although the falls, due to it being the middle of February were completely frozen over and snow-covered.

After that I took them along the northern coast of the peninsula so they could see some of the lakescapes where more rugged terrain interfaces with Lake Superior. We explored the area around the Eagle Harbor Lighthouse, ventured up to Esrey Park, and then returned back to Houghton. As we were passing though Eagle Harbor on the return trip, one of my passengers pointed out a coyote that was right at the edge of the lake along the road. It was in a position that was difficult to see from where we were at; so, I continued around the corner to where we could get a better view of the animal. In that very short period of time (about 40 seconds) it had amazingly moved quite a long distance across the ice as it was making its way north east across the harbor.

I got out of the truck to start taking pictures across the hood with my 60-600mm lens. My clients decided to simply stay in the vehicle with the windows down to take their pictures. A couple passing vehicles slowed down to take a look at what I was focused on but then continued on their way.

The falling snow was obscuring the view of the coyote and as a result most of the shots I took of it were soft and blurry - but a couple pictures turned out quite nice with the coyote enveloped in all the white of its surroundings.

Seeing coyotes (and sometimes wolves) travelling on the ice is not uncommon for people who live near Lake Superior’s shore. The dogs take advantage of the easy movement they have on the ice. They patrol the shorelines looking for prey, move between tributaries where they can scavenge and hunt, and venture out on the big lake in search of mates. Given that January through March is their breeding season, it’s entirely possible that this one may have been out looking for a mate…but, given that we initially had seen in scrounging among the uneven snow and ice of the shoreline it seemed fairly obvious it was looking for food. Our presence when we first saw it likely just convinced it to move to another location with fewer people.

If you are interested in personal guided hikes or photography sessions, let me know by filling out the form located on this page. I’ll send you more details and we can work out a schedule.

Snags in Winter Wetlands

I am fascinated by the importance and beauty of dead trees (aka: “snags”) in ecosystems. I’ve shared, in previous posts, why I consider them so important for ecosystems but I have never really shared why I find them so visually alluring. It might be because when I was a child, my family’s dining room had a picture that was drawn by the local art teacher which I, for some reason, found fascinating. It was a charcoal drawing on burlap of a collection of sparse conifers and snags in a bog - a very typical scene which can be found in many places across Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I could look at it over and over again and see stories and history and biology. I see bogs with conifer trees pretty regularly whenever driving down just about any given highway in the U.P. - and every single one of them reminds me of that picture.

I don’t know if those landscapes are inherently beautiful or if they are just alluring to me because of the picture that hung in our dining room. In any case, the moment I drove past the location in this picture, I could see its potential. I have gone back to it time and again and it always presents a scene that is differently beautiful to me. Though, it never feels quite as full of life as it does when the night sky is dancing above it.

Northern Lights House

The Aurora display on Thursday night (23 March 2023) simply blew my mind (as I think it did for anyone who saw it firsthand).

I happened to be at the base of one of the nearby lighthouses when the first real big blast of auroral energy hit. What seemed like the aurora’s core was nearly straight up from where I was standing and I thought it looked like it was radiating from the beacon.

My mind is still processing what I saw that night.

[Side note on photography etiquette (because I know some people will wonder if I was possibly ruining the scene for other photographers when I took this pic –– I was not) –

Please don’t disregard other photographers at a location. The pictures we all want to take are not so valuable or unique to warrant alienating others in the photography community. Please don’t blatantly walk into a scene or start light painting the area.

When I entered the scene of this picture, there were two other photographers at the lighthouse taking pictures. I had previously chatted with them and discussed the potential shots at the location, given the conditions we were seeing. When I decided to go near the lighthouse, I made sure no other photographers had arrived and then I made sure that from everyone else’s perspective, they were not able to see my approach, where I ended up standing, nor the lights created by my camera.

It’s not hard to make sure to make sure the pictures others are taking won’t be affected. If it looks like getting in someone else’s way can’t be avoided, I either change my mind or I politely ask if what I want to do is OK with them.

Please do the same.]

The Source

Although this picture was taken at the end of the Aurora event the other night, I thought this looked like the Aurora was emerging from this single tree and expanding across the Lake Superior basin to blanket the sky.

I know that this looks heavily edited. However, it is not. I still don’t fully understand why the sky on the left side of the image is so blue when compared to the right side of the picture.

I had positioned the camera so that the moon was just out of frame (There’s a brighter spot in the upper left corner near where the moon is located). So I thought that the light bleed from the moon might have been the cause of the difference. However, I don’t think that explains why there doesn’t seem to be a gradient and instead seems that the separation for the color difference in the sky follows the Aurora.

Weird!

If anyone knows why this would happen, please let me know.

Red Sky at Night...

The aurora borealis on a moonlit night along Lake Superior. This red sky blew my mind…what a phenomenal evening to be taking pictures of the night sky. The thing that I found most interesting about this picture was the ice and snow formation at the base of the picture. It was extremely precarious getting into position - the ice was slippery and the contours of the Lake Superior shoreline made it difficult to not fall down and slide into the lake. Add the fact that I refuse to use a flashlight when doing night photography because even the dimmest “white light” flashlights kill human night vision. I do have a red flashlight, which works great for preserving night vision…but they can sometimes make it challenging to see certain shadows of ground contours.

Spirit Tree

Aurora borealis on a moonlit winter night along Lake Superior can provide some really interesting compositions. On moonless nights the sky can show bolder northern lights set in front of a jet black Universe. When the moon is out, as it was this evening, it can wash out those contrasts. The tradeoff, though, is that the moon lights up the landscape with the long exposures needed for Aurora photography and along with the textures and contours of the landscape, the snow sharply reflects the moonlight making it seem as though there are stars imbedded in the ground.

For this particular image, I was not the only person at the location. A young couple was sitting among a cluster of trees that I would have liked to have photographed. However, they were using flashlights inconsistently and did not shut of the LCD screens on their cameras. Both of those light sources would have been very distracting in any of the pictures I would have taken.

In any case, shortly after taking this photo, I glanced at the image on my camera and new it was a keeper. It wasn’t until I opened it up on my computer this morning, though that I saw how interestingly the northern lights mimic the form of the silhouetted white pine.

If you look closely you can make out most of Ursa Major (The Big Dipper) above and beyond the white pine.

Sika Deer - Hokkaido

Whenever I plan on photographing with a specific goal, I always have something really great happen that was completely unexpected. In this case, I was at this location to shoot Japanese Red-crowned Cranes (Grus japonensis) While I was there, I became somewhat disenchanted with taking pictures of a ton of really big birds that were, for the most part, just standing around. One of the people that took us to the location pulled me aside and told me we should set up our cameras in a particular spot so we could get pictures of the cranes as they started to leave for their roosts as the sun began setting. I decided to practice shooting birds in flight, trying to get different effects of motion blur, either of the subject or the background, while I was waiting for the cranes. I took shots of ducks, swans, hawks, and eagles. At one moment, I looked across the field to see this male Sika Deer (Cervus nippon) moving through the brush. It stepped out into the light of the setting sun, paused, and looked straight at me. It was at that spot for 3-4 seconds, tops. Then it began running to find some more cover. However, that 3-4 seconds was enough for me to get this picture. It amazes me how often the concepts my Dad taught me, when I was a child, about hunting, now apply to a successful photo outing...practice, planning, patience, and pliability (adaptability).

Sunrise on the Setsuri

We took a trip to Hokkaido, Japan to see wintertime courtship displays of Japanese Red-crowned Cranes, known in Japan as "Tancho" (Grus japonensis). Tancho are an endangered species, having only about 2800 individuals living in the wild, with about half surviving in Japan. While we were on the island of Hokkaido, we stayed at the Hickory Wind Wilderness Lodge, operated by Makoto Ando (a certified guide, professional photographer, and accomplished blues guitarist), his wife, Shinobu (a Master Chef), and their assistant, Kenta Mori. Our first morning we were out the door early and greeted with a beautiful (and very brisk) sunrise to introduce us to the Tancho. This picture was taken at a nighttime roost in the Setsuri River just downstream from the Otowa-bashi Bridge.