THE FUNNY LITTLE OWL. 73 



took him up in my hand, lie submitted tamely, 

 sitting in my palm as if it were the most 

 natural perch in the world for a juvenile owl. 



How well do you suppose a young owl 

 can see in the daytime ? This one could see 

 an object near his face, at least in a shadowy 

 way; for, whenever I lifted my hand toward 

 him, he would fix it with his glaring eyes, 

 turning his head from side to side or throwing 

 it back, according to the position of the hand. 

 I lifted him to the crotch of a small bush. 

 There he lay, pillowing his head on one of the 

 twigs, and closing his eyes like an innocent 

 child. Indeed, he seemed so pretty and trust- 

 ful as he lay there, pretending to go to sleep, 

 that I almost fell in love with him and longed 

 to have him for a pet. He permitted me to 

 stroke his downy head and back, but kept 

 furtive watch out of the narrow chinks be- 

 tween his eyelids, through which I could see 

 the gleam of his golden orbs. 



He was learning the lessons of owl habit 

 very early, for his beak was stained with 

 blood. His parents had been feeding him on 

 mice and small birds. Innocent as he ap- 

 peared, he would have bitten me had I given 

 him half a chance. Once I ventured to put 



my finger to his mouth as he opened it, when 



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