HEAD OF BARN 

 OWL 



CHAPTER IV 



The Barn Owl: Strix Pratincola 



IN DEEP FOREST 



DID you ever traverse the Michigan Inland 

 Route, before fire annihilated and lumbermen 

 despoiled its great beauty? There was charm 

 in every foot of that dark, marshy old Northern 

 forest, in the narrow river flowing swiftly over its 

 bed of golden sand, in the rushy, moss-covered 

 swamps which bordered it, and in the clear, cool 

 air perfumed with dank odours and the resin 

 of pines. 



Forests of spruce, cedar and birch locked branches across 

 the river, among them monster trees had died and lodged at every 

 conceivable angle in falling; the swamp on either hand was scarlet 

 witli foxfire, while curious ferns, mosses, orchids and lilies lined each 

 bank. All its length were places where deer had been to browse 

 and drink, clumsy bears to eat berries, fish in shallow pools and 

 play havoc with the housekeeping of muskrat and beaver. Fancy 

 peopled these spots with dusky-painted faces, while one could 

 almost hear the water-dripping paddle-blades and the twang of 

 the bow-string. 



We were unusually early that year, and extremely fortunate 

 in securing a guide who was an ardent sportsman and a lover of 

 all wild life. Of course I was more interested than he in securing 

 subjects for my camera, but a casual observer scarcely would 



