ish, darker above, lighter below, where the dusky markings are indistinctly longi- 

 tudinal on breast and belly, and transverse on flanks, the whitish impure and 

 with a fulvous element on the margin of the facial disk, hind neck, wings, tail, 

 etc. ; wing-quills and tail indistinctly barred ; facial disk about six inches across, 

 dusky gray, with numerous dusky lines imperfectly concentric about each eye ; 

 the edge of the disk dark brown and fulvous, and with more white below ; the 

 eyes bordered by black on the inner margin ; iris yellow ; bill pale yellow ; feet 

 and toes heavily feathered. 



One autumn day some thirty years ago Charles Dury, of Cincinnati, was out 

 quail hunting with some farmers' boys in Clark County, near South Charleston. 

 While in pursuit of a scattered covey in a dense thicket, he came suddenly upon a 

 monster owl, the like of which he had never seen alive. A quick shot fired full in 

 the bird's face, blinded it, but did not inflict a mortal wound. Spreading its ample 

 wings it fluttered away, regardless of a second shot fired after it, the gun being 

 only a light muzzle loader charged with fine shot. Realizing that he had lost a 

 prize, the young collector scoured the neighboring woods in search of it, but 

 without avail. 



This very rare northern visitor has not since been seen within the state, and 

 it will hardly pass again the broadening belt of civilization which separates us 

 from the Laurentian wilds, in which it makes its home. The bird is not really 

 so large as it appears, but has long fluffy feathers within which the "meat" bird 

 is almost lost. Its eggs are not larger than some laid by the barred owl. 



Birds and Seasons in My Garden 



I. February and March 

 By Mabel Osgood Wright 



In the dark silence of her chambers low, 



March works out sweeter things than mortals know. 



For all the sweet beginnings of the spring. 

 Beneath her cold brown breast lies fluttering. 



— May Riley Smith. 



There is nothing more interesting, and I may even say curious, than, when 

 looking back over a period of thirty years spent more or less under out-of-door 

 influences, to realize the very different emotions called forth by the same hap- 

 penings in very much the same surroundings. 



In my garden plot covering, in cultivated, open field and wild, not quite ten 

 acres, it would seem that the coming and going of the seasons in flower and 

 bird-life would bear a certain defined stamp not untinged by monotony, yet it is 



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