324 WILD WINGS 



What sane person would dare deliberately " to break up " 

 a pair of Great Horned Owls, above all birds ? But people 

 are not all like me. 



There was nothing to do but begin the search anew, and 

 for days and days I vainly explored the cold and silent wintry 

 woods. Meanwhile, all unknown to me, a dozen miles awa}^ 

 another man was in the woods. He was not looking for owls, 

 but vigorously wielding the axe that cold first day of bluster- 

 ing March. The fierce winter of 1903-04 showed no sign 

 of abatement ; everything was locked in ice and snow. As 

 he worked, he noticed that a flock of crows kejit up a great 

 racket in a neighboring grove of heavy deciduous timber. 

 After a time he decided to go and see what was the trouble. 

 Walking quietly up, he saw the black rascals swooping 

 excitedly about a certain chestnut tree. In its top fork was 

 a platform of sticks, from which projected a dark mass which 

 ended in two j")e(uliar knobs. A closer approach revealed 

 two round yellow eyes gazing fixedly down at him. He was 

 a trained woodsman, and knew well what it all meant. The 

 crows were mobbing a Great Horned Owl on its nest. Most 

 men would have shot the owl, but he possessed the instincts 

 of a true naturalist, and preferred to watch it from time to 

 time. After some two weeks it occurred to him that he had 

 promised to write to me should he fnid anything of interest. 

 So one night, after a day of unremunerative owl-hunting, 

 I received a very welcome letter. 



As soon as possible, early on March 19, I started with 

 a youth in my sleigh for the locality, which was some eight 

 miles from mv home — the longest eight miles I ever drove. 

 It was uphill all the way, some places at an angle of forty-five 

 degrees. Now it was partly frozen mud or bare rocks, and 

 presently we floundered through a softening drift, in depth 

 up to the horse's ears. Eight such miles was a morning's 



