THE MOPING OWL 



MUSIC, vocal or otherwise, is always 

 a matter of taste, and individual 

 appreciation of birdsong varies like the 

 rest. One man finds the cuckoo's cry 

 intolerably wearisome. Another sees no 

 romance in the gurgling of doves, while 

 comparatively few care for the piercing 

 scream of the starling or the rasping note 

 of the corncrake. Yet few birds perform to a 

 more hostile audience than the owl. I say 

 advisedly " the owl," since the vast majority 

 of people make no distinction whatever 

 between our three resident kinds of owl, not 

 to mention at least half a dozen more visitors. 

 Some excuse for such carelessness might 

 perhaps be found in the similar flight and 

 habits of different owls, but it might have 

 been thought that greater measure of in- 

 dividual recognition on their own merits 

 would have been conceded to birds that 

 range in size from the dimensions of a sparrow 

 to those of a duck. But no ; an owl is just 

 an owl. Why the soft and haunting cry of 

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