THE FAERY YEAR 



bloodshed, or even in a wicked spring by the per- 

 former, we must conclude that the whole business 

 is planned. 



Mobbing the Brown Owl 



Leaving his perch near the dark top of the 

 spruce fir, whilst it was still light, the other after- 

 noon, and uttering his grand halloo, the tawny owl 

 was promptly mobbed by dozens of small birds in 

 the shrubbery and the edge of the wood. There must 

 have been half a dozen missel thrushes in the crowd. 

 What with their policeman's rattle and the black- 

 birds' metallic chinking and the chittering of a 

 shower of saucy tits and frantic finches, there was a 

 hubbub of birds round the owl. They even pestered 

 him whilst he sat still after his first short flight, and 

 when he stirred again the uproar was doubled. The 

 missel thrushes were in the van, all but striking the 

 owl as he glided from evergreen to evergreen. This 

 mobbing of the tawny owl is a frequent event. It is 

 his habit, in one place I know, to move abroad now 

 at about half-past four, and he announces it by a loud 

 cry. Some small bird sees him move, and cries out 

 indignantly the cry travels like electricity to birds 

 of various species a hundred yards or so around 

 they gather instantly. I should doubt whether the 

 missel thrush has much reason for wrath against the 

 tawny and the barn owls. Perhaps a missel thrush 

 nestling may now and then fall to an owl, but not 

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