SCREECH OWL 181 



he seemed to seek the shelter of a thicker cluster 

 of the sere leaves, partly crouching there. He never 

 appeared so much alarmed as surprised and aston- 

 ished. 



When I first saw him yesterday, he sat on the edge 

 of a hollow hemlock stump about three feet high, at 

 the bottom of a large hemlock, amid the darkness of 

 the evergreens that cloudy day. (It threatened to rain 

 every moment.) At the bottom of the hollow, or eight- 

 een inches beneath him, was a very soft bed of the 

 fine green moss (hypnum) which grows on the bank 

 close by, probably his own bed. It had been recently 

 put there. 



When I moved him in his cage he would cling to the 

 perch, though it was in a perpendicular position, one 

 foot above another, suggesting his habit of clinging 

 to and climbing the inside of hollow trees. I do not 

 remember any perpendicular line in his eyes, as in those 

 of the cat. 



July 10, 1856. As I was bathing under the swamp 

 white oaks at 6 P. m., heard a suppressed sound often 

 repeated, like, perhaps, the working of beer through a 

 bung-hole, which I already suspected to be produced 

 by owls. I was uncertain whether it was far or near. 

 Proceeding a dozen rods up-stream on the south side, 

 toward where a catbird was incessantly mewing, I 

 found myself suddenly within a rod of a gray screech 

 owl sitting on an alder bough with horns erect, turning 

 its head from side to side and up and down, and peer- 

 ing at me in that same ludicrously solemn and com- 

 placent way that I had noticed in one in captivity. 



