156 THE LONG-EARED OWL. 



although the sun was shining brightly. It evinced no wavering 

 in its flight, nor was the tree in any dark place of the scattered 

 wood, which is merely an old enclosed park with a number of 

 scraggy birch trees, with here and there a very large Scotch fir, 

 on one of which the nest was. Twenty of these large trees are 

 at intervals growing around the outskirts of the deserted old park, 

 on one of which I got both a kestrel's and a carrion crow's nest 

 within four yards of each other ; the one with eggs, the other 

 with newly-hatched young. Although the owl came quite near 

 me I could not detect the tufted feathers on the head — in flying 

 they lay these long feathers flat ; but, like the cockatoo with its 

 crest, the owl can erect or lay these " horns " or " ears " at will. 

 Neither male nor female emitted any cry when they flew away ; 

 but, at a distance, the male twice uttered a peculiar cry, betwixt 

 a screech and a champing of the bill, and as he glided amongst 

 the trees the wood pigeons flew hurriedly away as if frightened. 

 After the female was on her nest again she did not leave it, 

 although I was tramping about and climbing trees in close 

 proximity. It was a bright sunny day, yet these owls showed 

 none of that exaggerated awkwardness mentioned by Mr Hepburn 

 in Macgillivray's " British Birds " — one of his authorities. There 

 were chaffinches, robins, tits, and other small birds in abundance, 

 yet they took little notice of these owls, and certainly did not 

 mob them, and could not, for the owls though disturbed flew as 

 precisely as they did. Within four yards of the nest the small 

 birds were sporting amongst the branches. I saw a pair of robins 

 engaged in active love enjoying themselves on a tree quite close 

 to the owl's nest. The nest itself was near the top of the tree 

 and exposed to light and sun. The pellet castings, as usual, con- 

 sisting chiefly of the remains of mice, lay scattered on the ground. 

 On May 14th, 1864, I got a nest, with four deep-sitten eggs, 

 in a low Scotch fir near the outskirts of Kinglassie wood (since 

 cut down). It was in an old carrion crow's, newly lined with 

 wire-grass and heather roots, with soil attached ; and lined with 

 softer grasses, a few stray horse hairs, and a small bunch of cow 

 hair placed there by the owls to raise up the inside of the old 

 nest to make it flatter and drier — there being about three 

 inches of the roots and soil, and an inch of the softer grasses. 

 When I came near the tree the male was sitting on a larch fir 

 about ten yards of, and flew noiselessly, but somewhat clumsily, 

 away. The female sat until I began to climb the tree. They 

 both flew away and did not return while I was there, although 

 I was fully a quarter of an hour inspecting the nest. I left the 



