54 Coolidge, Notes on the Screech Owl. \_f^n 



occupied the tree each winter. From the doings of the pair in 

 mating, as will presently be described, I judge that this bird was 

 the female. In 1900, 1901, and 1903, about the middle of March, 

 a red owl joined the gray one for two or three weeks in her watch 

 at the entrance of the cavity, the two birds sitting side by side. 

 At the approach of a person the owls backed down out of sight 

 into the depths of their hole, more promptly in the daytime than 

 in the dusk, more promptly if one's approach were directly to- 

 wards the tree than if otherwise, and the gray bird sooner than 

 the red one. They returned to the entrance with promptness 

 inversely proportional to their willingness to withdraw, the gray 

 bird at noon not for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, the red 

 one towards sunset in less than a minute. 



The hour of the owls' movements was controlled by the degree 

 of darkness. Hence on cloudy evenings the various events oc- 

 curred rather earlier by the clock than at the hours given below, 

 which apply to clear evenings. By watching at the foot of the 

 owl tree, I found that the gray owl began her night's hunting, 

 whether the red owl were present or not, about forty minutes 

 after sunset. The gray owl was a little suspicious even in the 

 dusk, any sudden or unusual movement causing her to retire 

 for a few minutes. But the red owl in the dusk would not retreat 

 under any provocation, although until a few minutes after sunset 

 he would sit rather quietly, with plumage drawn tightly against 

 his body, and ears erect. As the darkness. increased his attitude 

 relaxed: he would ruffle his plumage, scratch his head, and look 

 about, into the distance, or down into the hole in which the female 

 was hiding, or at me on the grass below\ About ten or eleven 

 minutes after sunset he left the tree and began singing his love 

 song: he was now full of life and ignored all disturbance. His 

 song was in B flat of the middle octave, a soft trill, seemingly far 

 away, two or three seconds long, and closing with an upward 

 inflection, as if the bird were asking a question, — as doubtless 

 he was. Until the flight of the female, he sang from various 

 perches, now from the branches of the elm, now from some neigh- 

 boring tree, now from the rim of the cavity in the elm, his eyes 

 fastened upon his quiet mate. His handsome head was continu- 

 allv bobbing and swinging. Once in a while the male would 



