THE BIRD OF NIGHT 



I threw my cap over the owl and it fell to the floor. 

 We each made a grab for it and there was a general 

 mix-up, but somehow the bird which so many people 

 think is blind by daylight dodged through the array of 

 legs and hands, flying out of the door. "Well, I never!" 

 I exclaimed in disgust. "What made you so awkward, 

 Ned?" "Yes, how about yourself?" he retorted. 



Severe winter weather is liable to bring certain rare 

 boreal owls to us from the North. The best known 

 and most beautiful of these is the Snowy Owl, that 

 splendid white bird which we associate with the polar 

 bear and icebergs. There is apt to be a flight of them 

 in early December, if at all, and one is liable to meet a 

 specimen anywhere inland, though the seacoast is the 

 best sort of region to find them. I have met but one in 

 my life, on a salt marsh. Another greater rarity is the 

 Great Gray Owl, a Northern species closely related to 

 the Barred Owl, but larger. I have never seen it alive. 



The severe winter of 1906-7 brought to us many 

 Northern birds. On the twelfth of November, 1906, a 

 lady was driving along a road in the outskirts of the 

 town where I live. She came upon an Indian woman 

 who was examining something lying in the road. It 

 was a small owl which had somehow perished. Think- 

 ing it a "cute" little thing, she brought it to me to have 

 it mounted. I was not at home, but met her at the 

 post office. "Could I get you to stuff it for me?" she 

 asked. "Really," said I, "I don't see how I can. I am 

 just going away, and am very busy." But she looked so 



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