They call this majestic bird who hunts lemmings and haunts the silences of the Arctic tundra the great white owl, or snowy owl, a fitting name.

It is the largest owl in North America (by weight), weighing four pounds — one pound heavier than the great horned owl — and is sheathed in thick, insulating, gorgeous, almost pure white plumage, perfect for camouflage and sub-zero weather in the high North.

And when this beautiful bird ventures south to New England, word travels fast, attracting even non-birders to see it.

For instance, when my friend and photographer Ray Uzanas and I recently drove to Sachuest Point National Wildlife Refuge, a picturesque rocky promontory near Newport, to see a visiting snowy, the parking lot was packed by 9 a.m., lined with admirers aiming their expensive viewing scopes, tripods and cameras with 600 mm lenses at a snowy perched on the roof of the park’s information pavilion.

It was my first snowy sighting, and I reveled in the spectacle.

Unperturbed by the crowd, the star of this show sat serenely atop the building, occasionally swiveling its head in almost a complete circle, searching for voles in a nearby field. Looking at this stunning bird through my binoculars, I wondered out loud: “How do owls turn their heads like that?”

Later, I found out owls have twice as many bones in their necks as humans, and vessels designed to take blood flow in alternate routes when they twist their necks, enabling owls to turn their heads 270 degrees, according to a Johns Hopkins University Medical School study.

Leaving Ray to photograph the snowy, I went inside the pavilion to get some information on the bird, and the volunteer told me, “We’ve had two here this winter, and one snowy killed a peregrine falcon.”

In disbelief, I asked the volunteer, “How can a snowy kill the world’s fastest flying bird?”

“The falcon was eating something, and the snowy nailed it,” the volunteer replied.

Wow! Wildlife amazes me sometimes.

I found out snowy owls feed mostly on lemmings, but also have an appetite for snowshoe rabbits, ptarmigan, ducks and geese, which they can catch on the wing, something that no other owl can do.

The month of May is mating season for snowy owls.

So many of these nomadic birds — often they are juveniles who wander as far south as Georgia and Texas, in search of food — will eventually migrate back to the Arctic tundra, compete for a mate, and try to be as creative in raising a family as they are in hunting their prey.

Bill Hobbs lives in Stonington. For comments, he can be reached at whobbs246@gmail.com.