Flight of the Snowbirds

My husband, Clare, and I never planned to become snowbirds in retirement. If anything, we were avid globetrotters—together, we’ve visited more than 72 countries. But in the mid-2000s, a few of our Albertan friends bought vacation homes in California. Lots of East Coasters flock to Florida when it gets cold, but for many westerners, California, Arizona and Texas are popular destinations. Visiting the snowbirds became an enjoyable escape from the Calgary cold. We golfed and checked out outdoor art installations, activities that would be unthinkable up here during the winter. In 2012, when the Canadian and U.S. dollars were roughly at par, and real-estate prices sank down south, Clare and I saw a good opportunity to invest in a winter retreat of our own.

We narrowed our search to Palm Desert, California, where roughly a dozen of our Canadian friends had properties. We envisioned spending most of our winters birding, hiking, golfing and dining with friends. Palm Springs, one of the Coachella Valley’s most vibrant cities, was a half-hour drive away, so we could always head there for a change of scenery. Clare and I searched for a place that was big enough to host overnight guests—nothing ostentatious. Within a month, we’d found it: a lovely three-bedroom bungalow on a large lot, just a 10-minute walk from two of our close friends. It had a large kitchen, a dining room fit for entertaining and a beautifully landscaped yard. We wanted to throw garden parties when the weather was good—and it often was.

Those were happy winters for us. We golfed and hiked and, in the evenings, enjoyed Clare’s famous martinis—gin, extra dry, with a twist—by the pool, watching the sun sink below the desert horizon. I’m an avid photographer, so when it rained enough for the desert to bloom, I’d head out there with my camera and shoot. We also joined a few birding groups, trekking to Salton Sea, California’s largest lake, which is on the migratory path of many birds. A big burrowing owl colony lived on the sea’s south end year-round, and I never got tired of snapping them. Back in town, Clare and I befriended the owner of a terrific Mediterranean restaurant, who ran into us at the local Starbucks and invited us to join its 7:30 a.m. coffee club. The group was made up of 15 intelligent, open-minded retired folks—Canadians and Americans. We could always count on them to kick off our day with invigorating conversations on culture and politics.

Things began to change in 2024. To start, the Canadian dollar had weakened to 73 cents American. As a result, we were paying almost 50 per cent more for restaurant and golf outings than we would’ve in Canada. Owning a second home had also grown cumbersome. That August, a storm blew through Palm Desert and downed a 40-foot palo verde tree in our front yard. On another occasion, water leaked into the kitchen through the roof tiles. Both times, Clare and I were away, so we had to manage the situation remotely. We had dependable friends in the area, but the upkeep started to wear on us nonetheless. We weren’t getting any younger. 

Related: Faces of the Trade War

Donald Trump’s election that November was the last straw. Never for a moment did I think that he would be re-elected. Like many other Canadians, I was immediately dismayed by the president-elect’s rhetoric about our country: that we should become the 51st state and, later, that we should be subject to 25 per cent import tariffs. The U.S. had been a close ally my entire life, so it was surprising and painful to see Canada cast aside so easily. As much as we loved our American friends, who were sympathetic to our frustrations, Clare and I were Canadians through and through. We didn’t want to spend our money in the U.S. any longer.

We sold our house last April. It was a good time to do it: our realtor neighbour still sends Clare and I monthly updates, and he told us property prices in the area are dropping, possibly because other Canadians are also leaving. In Palm Desert, I used to golf with a group of seven women from Saskatchewan—only one of their families still has their vacation home. By the time Clare and I left, our coffee group had dropped to half its original size. The Canadians were all gone.

This snowbird exodus from the U.S. could have a dramatic impact on the real-estate market south of the border. Between April of 2023 and March of 2024, Canadians spent a total of US$5.9 billion on residential properties and accounted for 13 per cent of foreign home buyers in the U.S.. As of last August, more than half of Canadians who owned homes in the Sun Belt were considering selling them within the next year, including in Florida, where Canadians own an estimated $60 billion worth of property. Visit Lauderdale, a tourism agency, recently projected that the drop in Canadian visitors could take a US$90-billion bite out of the region’s economic activity. Fewer snowbirds means fewer patrons at local restaurants, stores and gyms. 

Since selling our Palm Desert property, Clare and I have continued to travel the world. Last year, we went to Sri Lanka, where we photographed elephants, birds and even a leopard on a safari. In Italy, we caught Aida at the Verona Arena. We visited our son, who runs his own multimedia business in Tokyo. When we’re abroad, it’s nice to see people in beautiful, colourful traditional dress—better than jean shorts and t-shirts with big American logos. Our trips are always a bit spontaneous: we’re not sure where we’re headed next. It might be Lisbon or somewhere in the Balkans. Clare and I haven’t spent much time in Europe, and we’d like to in the coming years. There’s a big world out there.

For now, we’re embracing the Calgary cold. We both bought new boots with ice grips on the bottom. I’m using all this new indoor time to update my photography website (and edit my many thousands of travel photos), which I’ve been meaning to do for years. Twice a week, Clare and I attend an exercise class for the over-65 crowd at a nearby community centre. In the evenings, we have our gin martinis—this time, by the fire. Our American friends occasionally extend invites back to Palm Desert. We don’t think we’ll be taking them up on that anytime soon. 

–As told to Kathy Chow