BIRD STORIES 



back, and, reaching up with beak and clutching claws, 

 fought for the safety of his family. In the heat of the 

 battle he hissed, whereupon the boy retreated, badly 

 beaten, but proudly boasting of an adventure with some 

 sort of animal that felt like a wildcat and sounded like 

 a snake. 



Besides, courage when needed, health, affection, good- 

 nature, and plenty of food were enough to keep a family 

 of owls contented. To be sure, some folk might not 

 have been so well satisfied with the way the house- 

 hold was run. A croAv, I feel quite sure, would not have 

 considered the place fit to live in. Mrs. Otus was not, in- 

 deed, a tidy housekeeper. The floor was dirty — very 

 dirty — and was never slicked up from one week's end 

 to another. But then, Solomon did n't mind. He was 

 used to it. Mrs. Otus was just like his own mother in 

 that respect; and it might have worried him a great deal 

 to have to keep things spick and span after the way he 

 had been brought up. Why, the beautiful white egg- 

 shell he hatched out of was dirty when he pipped it, and 

 never in all his growing-up days did he see his mother 

 or father really clean house. So it is no wonder he was 

 rather shiftless and easy-going. Neither of them had 

 shown what might be called by some much ambition 

 when they went house-hunting early that spring; for al- 

 though the place they chose had been put into fairly good 



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