Notes from the Indiana Sand Dimes 



off oak, which had been occupied two seasons 

 before by a pair of great horned owls, and to 

 my delight found its hollow top again in use, 

 possibly by the same pair of birds. For these 

 owls (which may remain paired for life) often 

 frequent a chosen locality for many years. 

 The nest, containing on the present occasion 

 two soiled white eggs, was lined with snow. 

 Just about the time the first bluebirds' notes 

 herald the approach of spring, young horned 

 owls are hatching. The other night a horned 

 owl began hooting no farther away than ten 

 yards. Very soft it was, yet laden with the 

 tragedy of countless lives that had called forth 

 from the veiling darkness of night, as they 

 awoke to find themselves in the monster's 

 clutch. I listened to the hooting repeated 

 every few seconds, and between each hoot the 

 sobbing gasp of some small creature nearing 

 its end, those talons sinking deeper into the 

 victim's flesh in every interval, pressing forth 



71 



