SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



[Jan. 1, 1866. 



A CAPTIVE OWL. 



A LTHOUGH the true method of obtaining 

 -£*- a knowledge of the animal world is to 

 i'ollo-w up the study out in the fields, where cvery 

 ereature is to be seen free from all restraint, save 

 the laws of its being; yet there are many habits 

 and peculiarities belonging to various species that 

 would probably never have been known but by 

 watching them in a state of captivity ; e. g. the 

 method of feeding the young, in the case of such 

 birds as the Owl, Wryneck, and others building in 

 dark and often inaccessible holes ; the different ways 

 in which birds of prey eat their food ; the modes of 

 spinning cocoons by caterpillars, &c. An objection 

 is, however, sometimes advanced, to the effect that 

 we must not form too decided on opinion of the 

 habits of any animal when perfectly free by what it 

 does when placed under restraint, and necessarily in 

 altered circumstances. But I think we must not 

 attach undue weight to this. Let the creature have 

 as much freedom as possible, so long as you can keep 

 it in your view, and then its habits will undergo very 

 little change. I do not like to see any bird in a cage 

 too small for it to exercise its wings in, and, above 

 all things, I have a horror of confining a lark, which 

 is truly a creature of the upper firmament, in a low- 

 roofed house, where it spends a considerable portion 

 of its time in beating its head in the many vain 

 attempts to follow out its native instincts. On the 

 other hand, few of us can afford, like Charles 

 Waterton, to construct a natural paradise of our 

 own, and therefore we must be content with imi- 

 tating Nature according to our means. I have kept 

 the commoner kinds of finches in a large airy cage 

 at different times, and they have been a never-tiring 

 source both of amusement and instruction. They 

 had sufficient space to fly about in, were able to build 

 their nests, and to bathe to their hearts' content. 



But, as my title warns me, it is of the Owl that I 

 am to write ; and though, perhaps, many facts that 

 will be brought forward will not be new, yet there 

 may be a few that have not been at least set forth in 

 print. They are all from personal observation, and 

 so, if there is any error, I must be accountable for it. 



It was a long time beibrelcould ascertain the exist- 

 ence of any Owls at all in this immediate neighbour- 

 hood ; I could not meet with any satisfactory accounts 

 either of young ones or eggs being found. At length, 

 induced by promise of reward, a boy came in triumph 

 one day, saying he had a " screech-owl's egg," and 

 after considerable care produced it from a covering 

 he had wrapped round it. His hopes sank as he 

 ueared it, for he found the covering very moist with 

 albumen flowing freely from a gaping aperture in the 

 shell ; however, as he remarked, there it was, though 

 unfortunately, it had been laid by a Kestrel. But iu 

 the month of October, 1863, two young ones were 

 brought to me half-fledged ; one died in a little more 



than a week, but his partner is still in my possession, 

 and is a very fine bird. I have turned him occasion- 

 ally into a large room at night, which he very 

 much enjoyed ; and very ghostly he looked sailing 

 backwards and forwards with noiseless flight in the 

 gaslight that streamed through the windows ; the 

 feet were, I believe, always stretched out behind. 

 His appetite developed itself at a very early age. 

 Before I had had him a fortnight, and while his body 

 was still partially covered with down, he one night 

 took six full-grown mice for supper (breakfast ?) and 

 would have taken more if he could have got them : 

 he swallowed them all whole. He does not, how- 

 ever, as some naturalists say, invariably bolt them 

 head first ; I have seen him take them tail foremost. 

 When any live prey is given him, he always seizes it 

 by the head and neck with his claws, and it is dead 

 almost immediately, apparently strangled. After 

 one shriek from a bird (and that is seldom given), 

 the victim lies perfectly quiet and resigned, and if 

 not dead, looks about it perfectly free from any 

 terrified appearance. I cannot help thinking that 

 the death which is inflicted by carnivorous animals is 

 much freer from pain than we are apt to suppose. 

 When he has killed his prey, or if it is dead when 

 given him, he passes it between his jaws, crushing the 

 bones, and then, if a mouse, he swallows it whole ; 

 if a bird, or any large creature, he tears it to pieces. 

 His instinct leads him to break imaginary bones in 

 a piece of meat in the same way when he has it. He 

 once endeavoured, after plucking off the head and 

 larger feathers, to swallow a greenfinch whole ; he 

 took two or three minutes, and apparently succeeded, 

 for he closed his mouth, and it quite disappeared. 

 Very soon after, however, he brought it back and 

 plucked it to pieces. As usual, he casts up all fur 

 and bones in pellets ; but it is curious to observe 

 that these pellets are also cast up when he has had 

 nothing but soft raw flesh to eat ; they then consist 

 mostly of sand and small stones which have clung to 

 the food as it lay on the floor of the cage. 



Besides mice and birds, he also takes rats, moles, 

 rabbits (which he does not seem to care about), frogs, 

 and black slugs, but he rejects grey ones. He flies 

 to the food, and takes it from the baud, and the 

 sound of a knife being sharpened brings him at once 

 to look out for meat. The only noises he makes are 

 what is called snoring, a sharp snapping with the 

 mandibles, and a quiet internal twittering, something 

 like that of the house-swallow, but not so shrill ; he 

 makes this when the dog or cat goes near him, but 

 very often when there is no cause. He is not 

 frightened at the cat, nor does he bear any ill-will 

 towards her, though she occasionally steals his meat. 

 Once she got shut up with him all night, but they 

 never quarrelled. The snapping noise is not a simple 

 clashing of the mandibles ; they are brought nearly 

 close,' with the tongue exserted on one side : this is 

 suddenly withdrawn, and the result is — snap. 



