272 BIRDS OF FIELD, FOREST AND PARK 



ing into the woods. It may be that their absence 

 is due to the fact that here is no corn to pull. 



High over a distant hill a pair of Broad- 

 winged Hawks wheel in great circles above their 

 forest home. Across the lake in arrow-like 

 flight comes a Sheldrake, settling in the shallows 

 for a meal of small trout. At the rear of the 

 cabin a Preacher Bird voices his arguments, the 

 discourse often punctuated by marks of inter- 

 rogation, and exclamation as well. The slowly 

 westering sun gives its warning of declining day; 

 back to the lake I go and in reasonable time the 

 creel is filled with choice fish of satisfactory size. 



On the return I again inspect the Oven Bird's 

 home, and this time she does not fly until my 

 hand almost closes the opening to her leafy 

 bower. A little farther along the trail such a 

 jargon of shrill Jay cries suddenly bursts from 

 the treetops just ahead of me as to instantly 

 bring me to a halt, wondering upon what mis- 

 chief these freebooters in blue are now bent. 

 The uncertainty is short lived, for above their 

 shrieks rises a hoarse cry, startling and raucous, 

 '' zvhoO'O-ah, whoo-o-ah-h,^^ so discordant and 

 altogether strange that for an instant I am quite 

 at a loss to account for it. 



A little investigation with the field glass, 

 however, reveals its source, a large Barred Owl, 

 beset and sadly harassed by a band of Blue 

 Jays. Perched in the topmost limbs of a tall 

 birch, he strikes savagely with beak and claw 

 at his daring tormentors as they dart at him, 

 hurling at them his defiance in full voiced cry. 

 Thoroughly aroused and desperate he defends 



