202 WINTER'S EVE 



them. In the summer evening he can be 

 seen beating up the hedges, pouncing as 

 he goes. When hungry, his capacity is 

 enormous nine or ten mice. He swallows 

 the mice and small birds whole the in- 

 digestible part being cast up later in the 

 form of a grayish pellet. If a hollow tree, 

 where these birds are likely to sleep during 

 the day, be tapped fairly loudly, it will 

 often drive its tenant into the light. Its 

 exit will invariably be hailed by a chattering 

 chorus of tomtits or finches, who will pursue 

 it. In the bright sunlight the sight is 

 dazzled, but in dull weather it would be 

 able to see quite easily. 



A wind-blown copse crowns a hill a 

 mile away from the park, and one day 

 in summer I found the skeleton of a barn 

 owl flung among the thorns. Of the 

 dark eyes each a wonderful instrument 

 nothing was left, only a little dust collected 

 in the empty orbits. Ants and flies had 

 long completed their work. The white of 



