136 On the death of a tame Snoivy owl.


at the nest, the male bird dashed at him and actually got his claws

entangled in the man’s clothes and was captured; the poor old

hen bird being almost blown to pieces at very close quarters by a

large spherical bullet from a rifle. Needless to say the skin was

claimed and also the living bird, which with care quite recovered,

and eventually came into my possession with several of the young.

In Norway, where fresh meat of all kinds is always scarce, there

was much difficulty in catering for the considerable collection of

birds which had accumulated. The supply of old hens, magpies,

hoodie crows, and fieldfares was soon exhausted. At last an ancient

pony was bought and slaughtered, and his meat kept well in the ice¬

house which is generally to be found near Norwegian salmon rivers.


Whether this white male was the parent of my birds I could

not learn, as individuals from more than one nest were brought

home. But, though after some six or eight moults, my male bird

became almost entirely white, except about three of the tertiaries on

each wing, which always were marked with black spots and splashes,

he never became pure white; and curiously, towards the end of his life,

he became a good deal more marked, both on tertiaries, secondaries,

and wing coverts. This partial reversion to the plumage of the

immature must I think be very unusual. My “ snowies” frequently

hatched young, but the nestlings are delicate and suffered a good

deal in hot weather. But for this I have no doubt we should have

reared many more, but when hot weather came in July, the young

birds were put off their food and soon went wrong. In cool summers

several were reared. There was one of them until lately in the

owl aviaries in the Zoological Gardens. Several were sent to the

aviaries of a friend whose raptorial birds are the admiration of all

connoisseurs; but somehow the snowy owl has never thriven there

for long, perhaps owing to the aviaries being too much exposed to

the sun for these alpine birds.


The last note I have of these owls having hatched young was

in 1909. On July 4th of that summer two young, aged a fortnight,

were thriving, but my recollection is that they were for some

reason not reared, I think owing to the old female going wrong for

a time. This was when the parents were 18 years old and when the

female was certainly beginning to show signs of age.



