I was on my way to the family farm last week, driving north through the flat agricultural country around Lindsay, when I caught sight of some interesting movement ahead. Bits of white swooping up from the roadside, circling out over a cornfield, then coming back to land beside the road again. Immediately I checked the rear-view mirror, slowed the car and pulled over to the shoulder, my pulse racing with excitement.

Snow buntings! It had to be. Horned larks aren't white, nor do they travel in such large numbers. This flock was sizeable. Dozens at a time would fly off, bounding and swirling, while others dropped in over the road, taking their place in what looked like a swarm of golden-backed birds the same colour as the gravel.

With all the snow around, I figured it might be the gravel that drew them, since birds often swallow bits of grit to help grind food in their gizzards. Or maybe it was weed seeds they were attracted to.

I didn't have my binoculars, so couldn't distinguish males or females, adults or juveniles -- just that rusty-golden plumage on their backs, and white-and-black wings when they flew. Nor could I see if any darker birds -- horned larks or longspurs -- were among them. I turned on the engine and slowly drove closer, but a passing car spooked the flock again and they were off, white confetti blowing in the wind. There must have been 400.

I adore snow buntings. Every winter I hope to see these beautiful visitors from the Arctic, which head our way and on into the northern states when 24-hour darkness settles over their barren, treeless breeding grounds. Back in the first week of January, Karen Bochmann, a reader from the Wyndance community in Uxbridge, e-mailed me about a flock of sparrow-size birds with white wings swirling around the vacant lots near her home. She heard a soft twittering sound, what she thought was one bird, as she was waiting at a bus stop with her son. It turned out to be 50 birds calling to each other.

When I suggested she Google "snow bunting," Karen wrote back about a wonderful website she had discovered, whatbird.com, where she was able to hear and identify her snow buntings' raspy, warbling call. I'm sure I was just as delighted as she was with this useful, easy-to-use site, which provides information on every bird in North America.

Ever since I got Karen's e-mail, I've been scanning roadsides, hoping to see snow buntings. Lots of reports of them have come in on ONTBIRDS lately, a website where birders post intriguing sightings.

Now that I've finally seen a flock, I'm more eager than ever to grab my binoculars and head for open country.

Nature queries: 905-725-2116 or mcarney@interlinks.net.