310 
WILD WINGS 
before, on the eighteenth of April. I had casually met this 
owl in my rambles, but never had learned the secret of its 
nesting, which is a rare occurrence in southern New England, 
This day, searching for hawks’ nests in the pine woods, I came 
to a clearing in which stood near together two solitary dead 
pine stubs, in one of which were several holes made by the 
Flicker. Arriving beneath these holes, I noticed some sort 
of excrescence projecting from the stul), partly around on 
the t)ther side, about fifteen feet up, and stepped to where 
it could be better viewed. My heart almost stopped beating ! 
A round disk filled one of the woodpecker cavities. A pair 
of tiny yellow eyes gazed fixedly upon me. It was no ordi¬ 
nary sight; an owl, but no common Screech Owl. It had no 
ear-tufts, and was much smaller, — the Saw-whet or Acadian 
Owl! 
There is no telling how long I stood transfixed watching 
the owl, and the owl, equally motionless, watched me. But 
the owl was victor, f(ir an aching neck at length interrupted 
my gaze. Then I lay down on the dry leaves, and, in an 
easier posture, continued to watch. All the while the owl 
stared fixedly, and now and then blinked. The sun shone 
strong and hot, and the bird of night was right in the glare. 
Sometimes it would close its eyes, and appear asleep. But, 
at the slightest movement on my part, the yellow orbs would 
instantly oj^en. Finally the little creature, thinking me harm¬ 
less, slid back into her cool and shady retreat within the 
stub. 
I tried the effect of a slight noise at the foot of the tree. LTp 
popped the little round head. A gentle kick on the stub made 
her come part way out of the hole, ready to fly; so I care¬ 
fully retreated a few paces. The owl watched me awhile, and 
then withdrew, appearing again as I approached to see if 
there were any droppings under the hole. There was nothing 
