270 AN OWL'S yp HOLIDAY. 
were nearly ready to fly, and in the course of a 
day or two I saw one of them sitting in a tree in 
the midst of a drenching rain. On my offering 
to lay hold of him he dropped into the grass, 
and when I picked him up both parents began 
to fly about me excitedly, with loud outcries. 
The male, especially, went nearly frantic, enter- 
ing the bowling alley where I happened to be, 
and alighting on the floor; then, taking to the 
bole of a tree, he fluttered helplessly upon it, 
spreading his wings and tail, seeming to say as 
plainly as words could have done, ‘* Look, you 
monster! here’s another young bird that can’t 
fly; why don’t you come and catch him?” 
The acting was admirable, —all save the spread- 
ing of the tail; that was a false note, for the 
youngster in my hand had no tail feathers at 
all. I put the fellow upon a tree, whence he 
quickly flew to the ground (he could fly down 
but not up), and soon both parents were again 
supplying him with food. The poor thing had 
not eaten a morsel for possibly ten minutes, a 
very long fast for a bird of hisage. I hoped he 
would fall into the hands of no worse enemy 
than myself, but the chances seemed against 
him. The first few days after quitting the nest 
must be full of perils for such helpless inno- 
cents. 
For the credit of my own sex I was pleased 
