WINTER NEIGHBORS. 67 
keeps himself in spring and summer x do not know, 
but late every fall, and at intervals all winter, his 
hiding-place is discovered by the jays and nut-hatches, 
and proclaimed from the tree-tops for the space of 
half an hour or so, with all the powers of voice they 
can command. Four times during one winter they 
called me out to behold this little ogre feigning sleep 
in his den, sometimes in one apple-tree, sometimes in 
another. Whenever I heard their cries, I knew my 
neighbor was being berated. The birds would take 
turns at looking in upon him and uttering their alarm- 
notes. Every jay within hearing would come to the 
spot and at once approach the hole in the trunk or 
limb, and with a kind of breathless eagerness and ex- 
citement take a peep at the owl, and then join the 
outery. When I approached they would hastily take 
a final look and then withdraw and regard my move- 
ments intently. After accustoming my eye to the 
faint light of the cavity for a few moments, I could 
usually make out the owl at the bottom feigning sleep. 
Feigning, I say, because this is what he really did, as 
I first discovered one day when I cut into his retreat 
with the axe. The loud blows and the falling chips 
did not disturb him at all. When I reached in a 
stick and pulled him over on his side, leaving one of 
his wings spread out, he made no attempt to recover 
himself, but lay among the chips and fragments of - 
decayed wood, like a part of themselves. Indeed, it 
took a sharp eye to distinguish him. Nor till I had 
pulled him forth by one wing, rather rudely, did he 
abandon his trick of simulated sleep or death. Then, 
like a detected pickpocket, he was suddenly trans- 
formed into another creature. His eyes flew wide 
open, his talons clutched my finger, his ears were de- 
