334 Raptorial Birds of the Solway Area. 



Hen Harrier seems to have been quite abundant till shortly aftier 

 game preserving set in. Even yet an odd bird or two (I heard 

 of one in Kirkbean in October) turns up occasionally, mostly at 

 the migration seasons. There are about half a dozen instances 

 of the occurrence of Montagu's Harrier. One was a specially 

 interesting case, as the bird, a fine female, caught on Cairnsmore 

 of Fleet, had beyond doubt been sitting on eggs. The date was 

 June 15th, 1 88 1. 



This brings me to the end of the Diurnal Raptores, and I 

 now turn to the Nocturnal section, beginning with 



The Barn Owl. 



Somehow, I always think of this bird in connection with one 

 peculiar habit it has. This is the power of emitting, at extremely 

 infrequent intervals, a most appalling shriek, calculated to lift 

 the hair on the baldest head, if the listener happens to be 

 unaware of the source from whence the frightful scream proceeds. 

 At the dead hour of night, breaking in on the stillness, with a 

 suddenness which is often startling, even to those who have heard 

 it before, this uncanny sound may well give rise to any amount of 

 belief in warlocks and witches. Except for this wild expression 

 of disgust with the world itself, and a few grotesque incoherences 

 in the way of hissings, nasal whistling, and snores, the Barn Owl 

 is voiceless, for, if it hoots at all, it must do so very rarely. 

 Sir W. Jardine, however, states in a footnote to his edition of 

 Selborne that " this species does hoot, for I have shot them in 

 the act. They also hiss and scream, but at night, when not 

 alarmed, hooting is the general cry." 



Frequenting buildings, new and old, only seldom resorting 

 to hollow trees and rock faces, this species is to most people fully 

 more familiar (in the preserved form) than the three other Owls 

 that are resident with us. Its pretty contrasted colours of pale 

 buff and yellow, with an intricate tracery of delicate greys and 

 browns, and the purity of its white underparts, render it a 

 desirable addition to the orthodox case of "stuffed" birds. 

 Perhaps no other bird figures so often and so prominently as an 

 ornament for the parlour window-sill, or as one of the occupants 

 that gaze with glassy eyes and a never ending stare from the case 

 on the lobby table. Everyone to his, or her, taste. Barbarian 

 habits die out slowlv. The stuffing of Barn Owls is a barbarous 



