A FEATHERED WASTER 149 

 evidently decided to risk death in the 

 protection of her unborn little ones. 



Later, over at the rearing field, I saw 

 Old Bob. 



" Well, sir, do ee reckon 'em to be proper 

 vermin ? " 



" No, Bob," I said casually, looking at 

 his weather-rutted hands. " No, they eat 

 mostly beetles and mice, I think, and an 

 occasional sparrow or so. I don't think 

 they will hurt your chicks/* 



Mere sentiment, of course, but the mother 

 whined so wistfully, and her little body was 

 so soft when I, like a great bully, prodded 

 her with the stick. Besides, she was an 

 owl, and blood is thicker than water. 



