The Great Horned Owl 299 
though borne on the wings of the night, a something 
had added a foot or more to the height of the old 
stub, slightly changing its outline, although it seemed 
as stark and silent as before. 
As the darkness deepened, the sounds from the 
wood folk grew more numerous, but ears accus- 
tomed to them gave little heed. “Whoo, hoo-hoo- 
wh-o-o,”? sounded again, so close this time as to 
startle even the watcher of the old stub. To the boy 
the swamp seemed suddenly to become as silent as 
the grave,—save for the distant, hoarse quawk of the 
night heron. But to the delicate ears of the listening 
owl there was a hurried movement, a tell-tale sound, 
and before the echoes of that terrible call had died 
away, what appeared to be a part of the stub had 
taken wing and silently swept into the ta!l grass by 
a clump of bushes. The owl emerged a few moments 
later with what appeared to be a rabbit in its talons 
and winged its way towards its nest. 
For an hour the boy watched and waited, but not 
again that night did he see the owl or hear his call. 
However, he was satisfied, for he had seen the Great 
Horned Owl at his hunting. 
After the young owls left the nest, the hunting call 
was less frequently heard, but again in the autumn, 
and occasionally through the winter, it sounded from 
