The Great Horned Owl 291 
into the crotch of a tree, ceasing to be curious about 
those passing below, as the ominous and almost super- 
natural ‘‘Whoo-hoo-hoo-wohoo-o,” sounded through 
the dismal swamp and echoed through the maple 
grove. This was the hunting call of the Great Horned 
Owl. 
The actions of the rabbit and squirrel fully con- 
firmed the many stories concerning this bird in its 
relation to the smaller mammals. The boy had 
always heard that this owl was a veritable Nero 
among the feathered race. He had seen the feathers 
from the ruffed grouse on the snow among the low 
hemlocks, with not even a track left behind to give 
a clue to the little tragedy enacted in the silent forest; 
he remembered, also, about the disappearance the fall 
before of some chickens from a tree close by the 
barn, and later one of the bodies being found on 
a high fence post with the head eaten away. While 
these thoughts were passing through his mind the 
boy was nearing the swamp, when his reverie was 
again broken by the dismal hoot of the owl. Already 
he knew a great deal about the shy wood folk, whether 
in fur or feathers, but as yet he had never discovered 
the nest of the Great Horned Owl. It was now the 
first week in March, and of late he had frequently 
heard the weird call from the swamp, causing him 
