Birds are vagrant, globe-trotting little beasts. Some travel thousands of miles in a season, crossing continents only months after hatching.

On occasion, one is bound to zig when it should have zagged, or alter its normal travel plans for one reason or another.When this happens, it sends bird watchers into a frenzy, hoping to get a glimpse of something perched in a place where it's not supposed to be.Two years ago, when a Eurasian widgeon stopped over at Mauch Chunk Lake, birders descended on the place like eco-paparazzi. They lugged heavy, expensive optics and camera equipment down to the lake shore, each of them asking, where's the bird at today?Just recently a painted bunting - in characteristic colorful plumage - turned up in New York City. For weeks thousands of birders tracked the little fella from a respectful distance, celebrating the first appearance in history of an adult male of this species in NYC.In December, birding hotlines were lit up brighter than Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July, with reports of a Gyrfalcon in upstate New York, a Pacific Loon on Lake Erie, and a Crested Caracara in southern New Jersey.Oh, the ecstasy of being a birder in the Northeast.Carbon County saw an unusual migrant just before Thanksgiving; with reports of a Snowy Owl loitering around the local airport.This is typical behavior, and researchers believe open fields and runways resemble the Arctic tundra of home. It explains sightings of a Snowy at the Hazleton Municipal Airport two years in a row, and another bird on the open soccer fields behind a Monroe County high school.Unfortunately, Snowies don't always recognize the hazards inherent in life below the Arctic Circle; and on Thanksgiving Day, CCEEC staff got the call we'd hoped wouldn't come - the Mahoning Valley Snowy had been found on the side of Route 443, likely having been hit by a car.Despite quick intervention and our best efforts, the bird did not survive. It was badly dehydrated and very thin, perhaps having used the last of its energy reserves in making its way this far south.What drew this owl - what draws any of the owls - away from their Arctic home isn't clear. Scientists once thought the sudden, sporadic migrations (called "irruptions") were caused by a crash in the birds' normal, northern prey populations.Snowy Owls feed largely on lemmings - a kind of fat little Arctic hamster. Lemming populations are cyclical, rising and falling naturally over a period of years. As lemming numbers drop, some owls are forced south in search of food.But some irruptions follow years of lemming "highs". Abundant prey means more Snowy chicks survive into their first year. More owls means more competition for food, and the result is the same; some birds must migrate to less crowded hunting territories.Project SNOWstorm, a collaboration among dozens of science-minded individuals and organizations, was formed in the wake of recent irruptions, in part by local author and naturalist Scott Weidensaul.Weidensaul helped age the Mahoning Valley Snowy as a young male, and coordinated with SNOWstorm biologists to have the bird examined and tested for toxins after its demise.Scientists have found evidence of pesticides and other chemicals in Snowy Owl tissues, despite the birds' normal home range being far from civilization - a sad testament to the widespread effects our actions have had on the planet.SNOWstorm welcomes input from anyone who spots a Snowy this winter, though they caution to keep a respectful distance from the birds. Some are so weak from recent travels, that even short flights to avoid nosy humans can put them over the edge.For more information on Project SNOWstorm, or to make a donation to their research efforts, visit

www.projectsnowstorm.orgSusan Gallagher is administrator for the Carbon County Environmental Education Center in Summit Hill.