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THE GREAT HORNED OWL 



THIS is the most human-looking of all the Owls. 

 There is something searching and penetrating in the 

 fixed stare of his great round eyes. The suddenness 

 of encountering him face to face, and the strangely 

 silent flapping of his great brown wings as he darts 

 and dodges away among the trees, seem to impress 

 the mesmeric weirdness of the woods. Such meetings 

 are, indeed, rare, for he shrinks from human intrusion, 

 and will face a score of feathered tormentors to avoid 

 an inquisitive invader of his retreat. His appearance 

 abroad is the signal for a general attack. All the birds 

 in the neighbourhood join the hue and cry. Foes are 

 for the time united. Robins and Blackbirds make 

 common cause. Kingbirds dart at him vindictively, 

 and even the Song Sparrows lend moral support to 

 the attacking force. Driven to a perch, his erect 

 attitude and impressive assumption of dignity do not 

 preserve him from the assaults of his persistent 

 enemies. Again and again they dart at him, as his 

 big, round head turns slowly and ponderously from 

 side to side. Despairing of peace, he once more 

 spreads his wings and hurries away in search of 

 deeper and more sheltering retreats. But the penalty 



