WAYS OF THE OWL. 321 



unacquainted. Thrushes of various kinds, warblers, vireos, swal- 

 lows, and sparrows treated him precisely as though he had been 

 a barred owl. Once a grouse, with a family of chicks, confronted 

 him boldly for a moment, while her brood scattered to cover. 

 His conduct while at liberty was somewhat peculiar. He shunned 

 the woods, and if taken into them, quickly made his way out. 

 His left wing being clipped, his only method of advance was by 

 clumsy leaps, or by a queer wobbling run, aided by outstretched 

 wings. Whenever I placed him upon the ground, he would hurry 

 away to a distance, and stop to pant with his wings dragging 

 wearily at his sides. One warm morning I left him on an open 

 pasture hill-side, and walked away to a belt of woods nearly an 

 eighth of a mile from him. Concealing myself in the bushes, I 

 watched him closely through my glass for an hour and a half. 

 The time was nearly a blank. The owl, satisfied that I had gone, 

 walked toward me about a rod and sought the shady side of a 

 small patch of juniper. There he remained almost motionless for 

 the entire period. Sometimes he turned his head and watched 

 crows at a distance. Once or twice he glanced at the sky, and in 

 one instance he followed with his eyes the flight of a small bird. 

 Looking toward the sun did not. seem to affect his vision. That 

 he could see things at a distance was shown in several ways. 

 When I came slowly from my hiding-place he saw me at once, 

 and started jumping down the hill away from me. On another 

 occasion I took him out in a pouring rain, thinking that he 

 would go to the woods for shelter. He was content with stand- 

 ing under a small apple tree which gave him practically no 

 protection, a fact which he discovered and sought to remedy by 

 running to another tree of the same kind. Inactive, unable or 

 unwilling to kill mice or squirrels, even when most hungry, 

 silent, vacant in expression, cowardly, apparently stupid, the 

 snowy owl, judged by my one captive, is a dull and uninteresting 

 member of an unusually acute family. I doubt Snowdon's being 

 a fair type of his species. 



The barred owls are the particular abomination of other New 

 England birds. They are courageous, keen of vision by day and 

 in the twilight, strong, alert, quick, yet crafty. Their voracity 

 makes them the terror of every nesting mother, the scourge alike 

 of the forest, the field, and the meadow. Of their merits as de- 

 coys there can be no doubt. If taken while young and clipped, 

 they are readily tamed and taught to obey simple orders. Mine 

 have been invaluable to me in studying the birds of New Hamp- 

 shire. When going for a walk, I take one or both of the older 

 ones. Entering their cage, I extend a short stick toward and on 

 a level with their feet, and say, somewhat sternly, "Get on." 

 They generally bite the stick once and then step upon it, and 



VOL. XLI. 24 



