312 WILD WINGS 
about the size of the eggs of the Flicker or of the Mourning 
Dove. 
Meanwhile the owl had returned, and was perched on the 
adjacent stub, some ten feet away, silently watching me, with¬ 
out exhibiting any token of impatience or anger. Never do 
I remember a more weird experience. After eleven o’clock 
on an inky night, up a tree in lonely woods, the lantern below 
throwing long sombre shadows, and the spectre-like owl 
watching me with glowing yellow eyes. I thoroughly enjoyed 
the ghostly outlook, but it was late, and I descended. At once 
the owl flew back into the hole. A parting tap brought the 
disk-like face to the opening again. As I withdrew, I turned 
back just in time to see the little creature sink back into her 
domicile. Two weeks later I found her there, not a whit dis¬ 
couraged, incubating another set of four eggs. 
Since then I have discovered many more “ owl secrets,” 
but not one has given me more unallo^^ed delight than the 
revelation of that midnight vigil on the lonely forest stub 
under the glare of the yellow orbs of the smallest of the owls. 
THE SCREECH OWL AND HER CHILDREN 
