396 ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 19H. 



had done the best we could, under the circumstances, to preserve the 

 record of an unusual set of conditions. The great homed owls had 

 proved to be, without much doubt, the fiercest of all the birds of prey. 

 In one further respect, unfortunately, our experiences were in contrast 

 to those of Mr. Finley and Mr. Bohlman. We found it impossible, 

 by any means at our command, to secure satisfactory negatives of the 

 adult birds. 1 We were unable to take them at distances of less than 30 

 feet, and in every case they so blended with their background of gray 

 bark, or gray bark and patches of snow, as not to be worth while. 

 We regretted our inability to try the effect of a blind to operate 

 from, but the mechanical difficulties in the way of such an attempt 

 demanded more time for their solution than we had to give. We 

 therefore gave our attention to the nest and contents, or rather as ' 

 much attention as the old birds would allow us to give. As the 

 adults were necessarily much under observation, it is hoped that a 

 record of their conduct may add some interest to the present article. 

 The beautiful deciduous forest, stretching for miles along the 

 north bluffs of the Cedar River to the west of Mount Vernon, had 

 by 1890 been reduced to various detached groves of from 10 to 100 

 or more acres each in extent. About February of this latter year I 

 was hunting through one of the larger of these groves, which, if one 

 struck straight across the fields, was only a mile and a half from town. 

 I remember watching the short, uneasy nights of a great horned owl, 

 but without locating his mate. I also remember talking with Mr. 

 McFarland, a sturdy Scotchman who has occupied his homestead 

 just across the road from the owls' hunting grounds since the early 

 fifties, and learning that "big hoot owls have always been in that 

 timber." Soon after the great oaks and hard maples of the eastern 

 two-thirds of the grove fell under the ax, leaving to the west only a 

 25-acre remnant and, in the cut-over area, only some old white elms 

 and a few young maples and lindens. Among tliQse latter the forest 

 soil soon gave way to a thick carpet of blue grass, and so what had been 

 heavy forest was gradually transformed into a rather open and still 

 very beautiful timber pasture. It was taken for granted that the 

 owls had moved elsewhere, and for a series of years what had been 

 famous Sugar Grove was practically forgotten. From 1901 on, how- 

 ever, my way several times led across the pasture and into the timber 

 tract, and I was surprised to note there each time the presence of 

 great horned owls. Once or twice I even took some pains to find a 

 possible nesting site. There appeared to be none, so I concluded 

 that the owls were merely transients. On February 6, 1906, just at 

 nightfall a friend and I were walking along the public highway which 



i The portrait of the adult owl shown herewith (pi. 2,) was taken several years ago from a fine specimen 

 brought in to the Cornell College biological laboratory. The picture was made by a student of zoology, 

 who left the negative as property of the college. 



