3o8 Bird -Lore 



At intervals the nestling, as if rising manfully to the occasion, would 

 twist his head and neck around and make droll little noises, evidently intended 

 to be awe-inspiring, or thrust his fuzzy head forward with an absurd little 

 threatening woo-oo! 



But, by dint of much soothing talk, he gradually contented himself with 

 snapping his bill at me, and then his nictitating membrane rose over his eye- 

 balls and the big round eyelids gathered in till they became pink, lax and 

 irregular, almost closed rings. Nevertheless, little Johnnie, for so he seemed to 

 name himself, though perhaps it should have been Johanna, was by no means 

 sound asleep, turning his head at a noise from the house and noticing when I 

 tested him by moving my hand. Even when his eyelids closed to irregular 

 slits, at a slight movement of my notebook he roused again, his watchfulness 

 contrasting with the obliviousness of the somnolent old folks. 



Encouraged by his growing indifference, I moved a little closer, this time 

 getting up within about a foot of him, and, though he snapped his bill, he 

 made no move to get away. As he opened his eyes to look at me, his pupils 

 seemed blue in the yellow iris, and narrowed to pin-heads. He was now so 

 near I could see that his turgid nostril had radiating hairs and dark lines 

 above it, and, when his lids were down, black lines from his bill made sections 

 of facial disc. 



Poor little fuzzy nestling ! It seemed as if his mother should have been brood- 

 ing him instead of napping up in a tree, leaving him on the ground alone in a 

 world full of cats and devouring monsters. Pulling my gray sweater sleeve 

 down over my hand and speaking more softly than ever to him, I gently 

 smoothed his downy head and back, at which he merely snapped his bill 

 perfunctorily. A few low, quavering calls from a parent were answered by a 

 contented infantile quaver, and all was well. 



If I could only get a picture of my small friend ! When I went to the house 

 for my camera the family were greatly interested and the fisherman and his 

 little sister returned with me. Goldilocks, who had never seen an Owl before, 

 was greatly taken with "the dear httle fellow," and danced around ecstatically. 

 While getting Johnnie and Goldilocks posed, the mews of Tom and his mate 

 had to be answered by hurled sticks, for one pounce and a snap, and poor 

 Johnnie's short story would have been over. 



Unfortunately none of my pictures was a success, but they served to ac- 

 quaint Johnnie with the family and enlarge his experience. When I had carried 

 him out to the light in my soft hat, which he at once accepted as a cosy nest, 

 Goldilocks' mother brought out some raw meat, and, after surprising him 

 with a noonday meal, cuddled him with such motherly instinct that he willingly 

 perched on her finger while his picture was being taken. Then little Goldilocks 

 held him timidly in her lap for another snapshot, and at last he was carefully 

 set up on a board of the trellis with a cross-bar to lean against, where we felt 

 that he was much safer than on the ground in the grove. Our only fear was 



