143 THE BARN OWL 
ORDER STRIGES 
FAMILY STRIGIDZ 
Sus-Famity STRIGINZE 
THE BARN OWL 
STRIX FLAMMEA 
Beak yellowish white; upper parts light tawny yellow minutely variegated 
with brown, grey, and white ; face and lower plumage white, the feathers 
of the margin tipped with brown. Length fourteen inches; breadth 
nearly three feet. Eggs white. 
RETURNING from our Summer-evening’s walk at the pleasant time 
when twilight is deepening into night, when the Thrush has piped 
its last roundelay, and the Nightingale is gathering strength for a 
flesh flood of melody, a sudden exclamation from our companion 
‘What was that ?’ compels us to look in the direction pointed at 
just in time to catch a glimpse of a phantom-like body disappearing 
behind the hedge-row. But that the air is still, we might have 
imagined it to be a sheet of silver paper wafted along by the wind, 
so lightly and noiselessly did it pass on. We know, however, that 
a pair of Barn Owls have appropriated these hunting-grounds, and 
that this is their time of sallying forth; we are aware, too, how 
stealthily they fly along the lanes, dipping behind the trees, search- 
ing round the hay-stacks, skimming over the stubble, and all with 
an. absence of sound that scarcely belongs to moving life. Yet, 
though by no means slow of flight, the Barn Owl can scarcely be 
said to cleave the air; rather, it fans its way onwards with its 
down-fringed wings, and the air, thus softly treated, quietly yields 
to the gentle force, and retires without murmur to allow it a passage. 
Not without meaning is this silence preserved. The nimble little 
animals that constitute the chase, are quick-sighted and sharp of 
hearing, but the pursuer gives no notice of his approach, and they 
know not their doom till they feel the inevitable talons in their sides. 
The victim secured, silence is no longer necessary. The successful 
hunter lifts up his voice in a sound of triumph, repairs to the nearest 
tree to regale himself on his prize, and, for a few minutes—that is, 
until the chase is resumed—utters his loud weird shriek again and 
again. In the morning, the Owl will retire to his private cell and 
will spend the day perched on end, dozing and digesting as long as 
the sunlight is too powerful for his large and sensitive eyes. Peep 
in on him in his privacy, and he will stretch out or move from side 
to side his grotesque head, ruffling his feathers, and hissing as 
