THE (i WOODCOCK " OWL 123 



bers remain much about the same (mortality might 

 account for this) at every time of the year, except, of 

 course, for a month or so after the owlets have 

 abandoned their birthplace in the heather, when, 

 naturally, they are more abundant. 



It is in the Orkneys, on those wind-swept and 

 altogether desolate islands, that I have become best 

 acquainted with the home-life of the Short-eared 

 Owl. There, their haunts are seldom indeed on the 

 summits of the gently -rising hills, but are rather 

 on the broken gradients leading up from the valleys, 

 as well as in the extensive valleys themselves, where 

 a luxuriant rankness of unchecked heather, and 

 riotous, golden rushes derive nourishment from the 

 barren peat. Here they divide honours with the 

 Merlin and Hen -Harrier ; their sanctuary is shared 

 by Red Grouse, Plovers, and a few Curlews ; 

 while, if we pass over the sturdy natives cutting 

 peat, the occasional keeper, and the wandering 

 naturalist, these birds hardly know the sight of 

 man. 



On a fresh morning in May, as the heather and 

 rushes unwillingly surrender a path, there appears 

 suddenly, and as if by magic, about thirty yards 

 ahead of you, a large, pale brown, mottled bird. 

 It is a male Short-eared Owl. Without a moment's 

 hesitation he flies straight towards you, so to speak 

 giving you challenge. Fearlessly approaching to 

 within a few yards, he smacks his wings above 

 his back by way of menace. From this peculiar 



