304 
WILD WINGS 
some forty feet from the ground, he was rewarded by seeing 
a Long-eared Owl reluctantly leave, disclosing hve downy 
owlets. 
A similar incident gave me a delightful experience. Camp¬ 
ing on an islet in Lake Winnepesaukee early one June, 
I landed one morning on Bear Island and explored a tract of 
large trees, mostly hemlocks. Halfway up one of the largest 
of the latter I soon espied a bulky nest of sticks, and under 
it white egg-shells and droppings. Presently I was seated 
astride an adjoining branch, watching with eager interest 
the four half-grown owlets of this species that stood up in the 
nest and with bristling feathers, angry hisses, and snappings 
of their beaks menaced their unwelcome visitor. Suddenly 
the mother appeared on the scene. Seldom have I heard 
such an outcry from a bird throat. She hopped or flitted 
uneasily from branch to branch only about a dozen feet 
from me, mewing like a cat, wailing like a lynx, fairly scream¬ 
ing with fear and indignation, and as an interlude snapping 
her bill so rapidly as to suggest the roll of a watchman’s 
rattle. Father Owl allowed me only fleeting glimpses of 
himself at a respectful distance, as he approached to assist 
his agonized mate, only to retreat as his scant courage was 
exhausted. This continued as long as I remained in the tree, 
about half an hour. 
Minded to have a pet or two, I returned to camp for a basket. 
One of the young owls fell from the nest as I started down, 
and I put it on a stub for safety from prowlers. When 1 
returned in the afternoon, the youngster on the stub had 
disappeared, as well as one from the nest. The female was 
now as shy as she had been bold, only barely venturing within 
sight. Curious to know whither the ]3arents had transported 
their young, I climbed to everv nest I could discover within 
a considerable radius, numbering not a few, but all in vain. 
