Notes from Field and Study 



369 



])alsic'(l from sniiu' iiKirlal hurl, ullcriii^' 

 ihc while her prolcstiiig "purl, purl, purl," 

 making of herself a sight pitiable to see, 

 but for the knowledge that this was all 

 a ruse to lead me from eggs or nestlings. 

 Wishing to see to what extent liu- bird 

 would employ her feigned hurt, I fol- 

 lowed her. She responded eagerly, lead- 

 ing me on and on, away through the 

 woods, always keeping a safe distance 

 between us. Her elation at the success 

 of her deception was plain. How far she 

 would have taken me I don't know. When 

 I thought it wise to turn back, she would 

 liave had me follow on. As I deliberately 

 returned to the forbidden spot her agita- 

 tion increased visibly, and flying ahead 

 of me she attempted to lead me on by. I 

 sat down on the leaves fifty yards away, 

 and when no wile of hers would move me 

 she settled among the leaves where I 

 had first flushed her. Waiting fifteen 

 minutes, I approached her with a rush, 

 determined to see the precise spot from 

 which she arose, and, was it a leaf, dis- 

 turbed by her flight, that slid along for 

 six inches or so only to settle down on the 

 other leaves? No, scrutiny disclosed a 

 buff brown chick, sitting unmindful of me, 

 apparently asleep on the buff brown 

 leaves. Had it not made that one little for- 

 ward move as the mother left it, the chances 

 are that I should never have found it. 



The protective scheme was perfect. 

 The little downy body flattened against 

 the leaves of similar color, itself like a 

 leaf in outline, tapering toward the tiny 

 bill that might have been a leaf stem. No 

 wonder I had never succeeded in finding 

 Whip-poor-will chicks before! .Vnd it 

 occurred to me with something of pain 

 how easy it might be in searching, to set 

 one's foot on the invisible little chick, 

 still as a mouse, crush out its life, and 

 never know the tragedy of which one was 

 unwittingly the cause. — Edgar Bover, 

 Tyro, Kan. 



Horned Owl Killing a Skunk 



What there is about the skunk that 

 appeals to the appetite of the Horned Owl 



1 cannot say. I'lThajis it is witli him as 

 with some of us and our favorite varieties 

 of cheese, that the taste is much better 

 than the smell. .Vt any rate, it is a well- 

 known fact that the Owl chooses the 

 skunk as a common, if not a fa\'orite, 

 article of diet. I doubt, however, if many 

 persons have had the opportunity that 

 came to mc of seeing an Owl in the act of 

 skunk-killing. 



One morning, late in the autumn, I was 

 driving through the woods, when I heard 

 a disturbance in the dry leaves at a little 

 distance from the road. I stopped my 

 horse and, as I looked in the direction of 

 the sound; saw something struggling on 

 the ground. As I drew near, I saw 

 clearly the cause of the disturbance. A 

 few feet in front of me was a large Horned 

 Owl in a sort of sitting posture. His back 

 and head were against an old log. His 

 feet were thrust forward, and firmly 

 grasped a full-grown skunk. One foot 

 had hold of the skunk's neck and the 

 other clutched it tightly by the middle 

 of the back. The animal seemed to be 

 nearly dead, but still had strength enough 

 to leap occasionally into the air, in its 

 endeavors to shake off its captor. Dur- 

 ing the struggle, the Owl's eyes would 

 fairly blaze, and he would snap his beak 

 with a noise like the clapping of your 

 hands. Neither the bird nor his victim 

 paid the slightest attention to me, though 

 I stood quite close. How long since the 

 Owl had secured the death grip I do not 

 know, but there was no doubt about his 

 having it. The skunk could no more free 

 itself from the Owl's claws than it could 

 have done from the jaws of a steel trap. 

 Its struggles grew less and less frequent 

 and at the end of about fifteen minutes 

 they ceased altogether. Then the Owl 

 loosed one foot, settled himself in a more 

 comfortable -looking position, and ap- 

 peared ready to enjoy the spoils of his 

 battle. This I did not permit him to do 

 however, not because my sympathies were 

 with the skunk, but because I do not 

 approve of the murderous habits of the 

 Owl. — G. Norman Wilkinson, Free- 

 hold, N. J. 



