April, 1922.] 



The Canadian Field-Naturalist 



69 



than a 'voice', apparently intended to intimidate 

 her mate. This behaviour elicited an occasional 

 response from the male, who squealed back, 

 however, with a much greater show of composure. 

 I was now within 40 feet of the Owls, but I might 

 have been 40 miles distant for all the notice they 

 took of me. Whatever concern they lacked, how- 

 ever, was amply compensated for by my excite- 

 ment, for by this time I had guessed who were my 

 newly-found friends. 



The next Owl move was made by the 'missus' 

 who took a noiseless dip to the side of her husband 

 on the stump, this being the occasion for further 

 monkey-chattering from both birds. I was 

 getting my camera into play when the male took 

 a fresh grip of the expiring young grackle and 

 flew off through the woods, hoping, presumably, 

 to get rid of wifey. She followed close on his 

 trail, however, both birds sqi^ealing back and 

 forth as they flew, while I followed hastily, hoping 

 to locate their nesting site. They did not go far 

 and I soon came up to them again; the male was 

 perched on a high branch of a large birch, the 

 female below him on the same tree. When 

 their chattering had died down the male busied 

 himself with his victim and proceeded leisurely to 

 divest it of its feathers (the meat was evidently 

 being prepared for the baby owls when hatched). 

 I watched this performance through my binoculars 

 for two or three minutes, during which time the 

 female disappeared from the scene, her departure 

 being absolutely noiseless. 



As the male Owl was making such a slow job 

 of it I started to canvass the woods with Old Man 

 Lussier in the hopes of locating the female on her 

 nest in the broken-off top of one of the dead 

 trees. We must have spent nearly three hours 

 canvassing truncated trees without discovering 

 a clue, all the time supposing the female to be 

 incubating her eggs. Here's where luck failed 

 me, however, and my cup of joy remained only 

 half-filled, for the nest was never found. 



The sun was sinking low when Old Man Lussier 

 and I arrived back at the spot where we had left 

 the canoe. Taking a last look backwards 

 loathe to leave my new feathered friends even for 

 the night my eye caught a 12 foot stump in the 

 middle of a small shallow slough. Perched on the 

 top, silently and patiently watching for his prey, 

 was the male Hawk Owl. I pointed him out to 

 Lussier, who remarked in his broken English, 

 "she's get late," thinking no doubt of something 

 more palatable than Owls (we had eaten nothing 

 since breakfast.) I had with me on this trip a 

 small Premo Camera with a film-pack, expecting 

 to obtain nest-and-eggs pictures only; what was 

 now required was a reflecting camera. I decided 

 to try a picture, however, if I could get close 



enough, even if I had to tilt the camera consider- 

 ably. I guessed my first picture at 35 feet; 

 then took a few steps in the water and snapped No. 

 2 at 25 feet; I became quite excited stalking my 

 game and discovered the camera (?) was shaking 

 a trifle when I snapped No. 3 at about 15 feet; 

 No. 4 was at about 10 feet and still no move on 

 the part of the sphinx ! With his yellow eyeballs gaz- 

 ing intently at me I crept a few inches nearer when 

 a whistle from Lussier nearly made me jump; but 

 I refrained from swearing aloud as I was too close 

 to a feathered gentleman in whom I was greatly 

 interested! The next moment the Owl raised his 

 head and gave vent to a few of his peculiar scree- 

 ches. Was this intended to summon his mate, or 

 what? I looked around to see what Lussier's 

 whistle had meant. He was holding up a field- 

 mouse in his hand and while I watched he knocked 

 over a stump and stamped on some more (nearly 

 every stump in these woods harbored a nest of 

 these rodents). Then I took two or three final 

 steps and came right up to the stump. The owl 

 still intermittently uttered his vibrating cries 

 but showed no signs of departing. Between 

 screeches he would look down at me without 

 expression or sign of fear and I took a picture of 

 him in this pose. For my last attempt I moved 

 around for a side picture to take in the 'hawk' 

 tail. Alas, all these photographs were poorly- 

 timed and distorted! Another whistle from Old 

 Man Lussier and I saw him hold up a field-mouse 

 stuck in the end of a stick which he had cut. This 

 time I understood what he wanted and I told the 

 Owl if he would wait I would get him what he 

 had been hunting for! I splashed over to Lussier 

 and brought back stick and mouse to 'Monsieur 

 Hibou," as Lussier called him, who resumed his 

 programme of squeals even more persistently than 

 before. 



It was here that I took special note of the 

 Hawk Owl's notes. With head thrust forward 

 and mouth wide open, displaying a quivering red 

 tongue altogether a snarling expression those 

 weird, vibrating and unmusical sounds beat forth. 

 At this distance of only six feet a certain huskiness 

 was perceptible, the vocal chords sounding as if 

 he had 'yeiled himself hoarse,' so to speak, but 

 the screeches were not as strong or penetrating as 

 was suggested by the energy displayed in produc- 

 ing them. The birds nearly always cried as they 

 flew through the woods and at a distance their 

 cries have a somewhat uncanny sound. During 

 all my observations I detected little variation in 

 their cries. They apparently have no other call- 

 notes and no 'hoot.' 



Having made these mental notes I tentatively 

 held up stick and mouse to the Owl, at which he 

 stopped squealing and cocked his head from one 



