28 MY HIDING-PLACE. 



the recluse lives, where it lives, or what it does, 

 are secrets. 



Early in the spring, whilst collecting the mi- 

 grant, birds which arrive at Vancouver Island in 



o 



great numbers and variety of species some to 

 remain the summer through, others only to rest 

 awhile as they journey farther north to their 

 breeding-grounds Dame Fortune, fickle though 

 she generally be, deigned f<3r once to smile, and 

 afforded me an opportunity to watch the habits 

 of the Pigmy Owl. Two of these strangers 

 selected as their home a gnarled and twisted 

 oak (Quercus garryana}, that grew alone on 

 an open patch of gravelly ground near a small 

 lake. Close by this lake were the remains of an 

 Indian lodge, that had been once used as a fishing- 

 station, affording me a capital place of conceal- 

 ment wherein to watch the manners and customs 

 of these to the aborigines potent and much 

 dreaded spirits. 



My camp was not far away, thus enabling me 

 to reach my hiding-place at the first blush of 

 morning. No sooner did the rosy light creep 

 down the valley and spread over the plain, than 

 the owls were up and stirring evidently hungry 

 from a night's fasting; for, like a well-con- 

 ducted couple, they retired early to rest. 



