BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 19 



voices, long before a glimpse of the moving figure 

 can be obtained. 



As the darkness deepens, other birds awaken. 

 The Owls leave their fastnesses and sally forth. 

 When seen in the daytime, at a high elevation in 

 the darkest corner of the granary, the Barn Owl 

 appears to be asleep. For many hours it will re- 

 main perfectly motionless, its form barely to be 

 distinguished from a patch of dusty and cobwebbed 

 plaster. But a little before sundown it grows sud- 

 denly alert. Like a mere bunch of animated 

 feathers, yet with swiftness and precision, it drops 

 to the loophole in the masonry which gives access 

 to the world beyond. Then it sails into the gloom 

 of the stackyard, the legs stretched behind as 

 though to counterbalance the great head, and the 

 keen eyes scrutinizing every corner and small en- 

 closure of the fold. Sometimes it appears barely 

 to skim the earth; then rising, its dim, shadow-like 

 form disappears over the wall. Now as the gloam- 

 ing deepens, it pursues its way, skirting the long 

 dark line of the hedgerow, beating its soundless 

 course across the meadow, searching the narrow- 

 track by the wood, and ascending at every obstacle 

 as though it Avere suddenly upborne by an imper- 

 ceptible air-current, rather than by the motion of 

 its wings. Then its flight is arrested; on the in- 

 stant it drops like a stone in the herbage. Already 

 the sharp talons have grasped the trembling little 

 mouse, and in a moment more the Owl, like a grim 

 air-ship, is sailing back with its freight. When it 

 reaches the narrow slit in the stone, the prey- is 

 adroitly slipped from claws to bill, so that the feet 



