84 THE VIRGINIAN EARED OWL. 



_ swoop down suddenly upon the slumbering bird before it awakes. Sometimes, however, the 

 Owl is baffled in a very curious manner. When the turkey happens to be roused by the rush 

 of the winged foe, it instinctively ducks its head and spreads its tail flatly over its back. The 

 Owl, impinging upon the slippery plane of stiff tail feathers, finds no hold for its claws, and 

 glides off the back of its intended victim, which immediately dives into the brushwood before 

 the Owl can recover from the surprise of its unexpected failure. 



The following admirable description of the Virginian Eared Owl, as it used to be in the 

 earlier days of cultivation, is given by Audubon in his well-known History of the Birds of 

 America. 



"It is during the placid serenity of a beautiful night, when the current of the waters 

 moves silently along, reflecting from its smooth surface the silver radiance of the moon, and 

 when all else of animated nature seems sunk in repose, that the great Horned Owl, one of the 

 Nimrods of the feathered tribes of our forests, may be seen sailing silently and yet rapidly on, 

 intent on the destruction of the object destined to form its food. 



"The lone steersman of the descending boat observes the nocturnal hunter gliding on 

 extended pinions across the river, sailing over one hill and then another, or suddenly sweeping 

 downwards and again rising in the air like a moving shadow, now distinctly seen, and again 

 mingling with the sombre shades of the surrounding woods, fading into obscurity. 



"The bird has now floated to some distance, and is opposite the newly-cleared patch of 

 ground, the result of a squatter's first attempt at cultivation in a place lately shaded by the 

 trees of the forest. The moon shines brightly on his hut, his light fence, the newly-planted 

 orchard, and a tree which, spared by the axe, serves as a roosting-place for the scanty stock 

 of poultry which the new-comer has procured from some liberal neighbor. Amongst them 

 rests a turkey -lien, covering her offspring with extended wings. 



"The great Owl, with eyes keen as those of any falcon, is now seen hovering above the 

 place. He has already espied the quarry, and is sailing in wide circles, meditating his plan 

 of attack. The turkey -hen, which at another time might be sound asleep, is now, however, so 

 intent upon the care of her young brood, that she rises on her legs, and purrs so loudly as she 

 opens her wings and spreads her tail, that she rouses her neighbors, the hens, together with 

 their protector. The cacklings which they at first emit soon become a general cjamor. 



" The squatter hears the uproar, and is on his feet in an instant, rifle in hand ; the priming 

 examined, he gently pushes open the half-closed door and peeps out cautiously, to ascertain 

 the cause by which his repose has been disturbed. He observes the murderous Owl just 

 alighting on the dead branch of a tall tree, when, raising his never-failing rifle, he takes aim, 

 touches the trigger, and the next instant sees the foe falling dead to the ground. The bird is 

 unworthy of his further attention, and is left a prey to some prowling opossum or other carniv- 

 orous quadruped. In this manner falls many a Horned Owl on our frontier, where the species 

 abounds." 



The flight of this bird is remarkably powerful, easy, and graceful, as may be gathered 

 from the enormous expanse of wing, in comparison with the weight and dimensions of the body. 

 Its voice is of a hollow and weird -like character, and when heard by night from some spot on 

 which the Owl has silently settled, is apt to cause many a manly but superstitious cheek to 

 pale. As Wilson well observes, the loud and sudden cry of Waugh O ! Waugh O ! is sufficient 

 to alarm a whole garrison of soldiers. Probably on account of the peculiar sounds which are 

 uttered by this bird, the Cree Indians know it by the name of Otowuck-oho ! 



The Virginian Horned Owl takes up its residence in the deep swampy forests, where it 

 remains hidden during the day, and comes out at night and morning, heralding its approach 

 with its loud, unearthly cries, as of an unquiet, wandering spirit. Sometimes, according to 

 Wilson, "he has other nocturnal solos, one of which very strikingly resembles the half- 

 suppressed screams of a person suffocating or throttled." 



Sir W. Jardine, in his notes to his well-known edition of Wilson's American Ornithology, 

 gives the following account of a captive Owl, which affords an excellent idea of the peculiar 

 sounds that can proceed from an Owl's throat. 



