When I wrote about European starlings and their complex North American origin story, I didn’t expect readers to be so fascinated by one particular word in the article: snarl. But like the emails, tweets and other feedback poured in, it became clear that this gnarled six-letter word and the field of scientific research it spawned were worth investigating further.
On October 4, 1960, a Lockheed L-188 Electra aircraft nosedived into Boston Harbor just seconds after takeoff. Of the 72 crew and passengers, only 10 survived.
As researchers searched the rubble, they kept finding blobs of what appeared to be black feathers. Such material eventually became known as snarge.
The best researchers suspected that the Electra’s engines had taken up a flock of birds, but no one could say what kind of bird could bring down a plane that size. So the researchers called Roxie Laybourne, a Smithsonian Institution ornithologist who was an expert on feathers.
With an extensive collection of museum specimens at her disposal, Mrs. Laybourne compared microscopic patterns in the feathers. What the Electra destroyed did not belong to a large bird, such as a vulture, turkey, or crow. Rather, the feathers belonged to the little European starling.
In the decades that followed, airports would hire wildlife biologists to use the information provided by Ms. Laybourne to discourage certain bird species from flocking around their flight paths. In turn, Mrs. Laybourne would become a legend of science and air traffic safety, known as the Feather Lady. You would be just as right to call her the Queen of Snarge.
Carla Dove, program manager for the Feather Identification Lab at the Smithsonian Institution and successor to Ms. Laybourne, said she wasn’t sure who first coined the term snarge, but she first heard it at the museum.
Snarge can be a wad of a Canada goose stuck in an airplane engine. Or it could be a broken and burnt gull feather lying along the runway. Snarge can even be as small as a rust-red spot on the nose of an airplane.
But no matter what form it takes, every string is different – and every string matters.
In Mrs. Laybourne’s time, physical comparison of snarge specimens under a microscope was the industry standard.
“She cleaned and washed the feathers, matching the pattern, colors and texture to the museum specimens,” said Dr. deaf.
dr. Dove and her colleagues are now also using DNA analysis because a snout sample does not always contain a recognizable piece of feather. In some cases, samples can be too small or bad to yield DNA, so they solve the mystery using a combination of techniques.
And determining the origin of snarge has implications for the real world. After starlings were involved in the Electra crash, which remains the deadliest ever caused by a bird strike, the aviation industry began making engines with those collisions in mind. Many aircraft models can now be expected to survive a blow from a bird up to eight pounds.
But even these technological advancements don’t mean an aircraft is invulnerable to a bird strike, as Chesley B. Sullenberger III and his passengers learned in 2009 when Canada geese shot down their Airbus A320s in the event now known as the Miracle on the Hudson.
Of course, even small animals can have a deadly impact.
“Starlings are also known as feathered bullets,” said Richard Dolbeer, a scientific advisor for the Airport Wildlife Hazards program, part of the United States Department of Agriculture. “It’s a dense, sturdy little bird, with a higher body density than many other bird species.”
Since the 1960s, the Feather Identification Lab has been working with the Federal Aviation Administration and wildlife biologists at every major airport to identify problem birds and discourage them from loitering nearby.
Control options include catching and moving some birds or scaring others off with trained falcons, sound cannons, and distress calls. In rare cases, they resort to deadly measures.
Other strategies include eliminating standing water, removing trash or food scraps, and placing nets over roosting areas.
“Basically, we just want to make the airport as uncomfortable as possible for birds,” said Dr. Dolbeer.
Despite these efforts, a snare happens. Wilbur Wright was crushing a flock of birds as early as 1905, and in modern times, with more flights in the sky than ever, planes are beating birds every day. In 2019 alone, the FAA documented 17,358 strikes. Fortunately, the vast majority do little or no damage.
Perhaps most interesting of all, Snarge is not limited to birds.
Bats and insects turn into snares. And there are other curious species that pop up, including frogs, turtles, snakes, and even cats and rabbits.
The explanation?
Sometimes a bird of prey is frightened by an approaching plane and drops everything it is holding in its talons, which is then sucked into a jet engine. It’s also possible that if a bird and a plane collide, the contents of the predator’s stomach will be splashed along with the rest of the bird, and DNA will still show up in genetic testing, said Dr. deaf.
It’s never a dull day when you’re in charge of the snare.