308 THE GREAT HORNED OWL 



he was stooping forward, making his way through 

 the deep drifts, when without any warning he 

 received a blow in the back that nearly felled him. 

 Straightening up, he turned around to see the 

 cause. He was just in time to meet a second 

 attack from the owl, which he killed with his 

 hatchet. 



During the spring time, which is mating sea- 

 son, these birds give regular concerts, at which I 

 have assisted a couple of times. There are gen- 

 erally four or five performers, and although the 

 music is rather monotonous, it is very interesting 

 to watch the birds, apparently vying with each 

 other in producing the loudest note. It seems to 

 require a considerable effort, because the bird 

 throws itself forward, stretching its neck and 

 partly spreading the wings and tail, as it emits 

 its peculiar hoot, "whoo-hoo-whoo-oou." A min- 

 ute or two, and another responds, and this is 

 kept up for more than an hour if they remain un- 

 disturbed. When one is near the birds, the sound 

 does not seem very loud ; yet, in calm weather, it 

 can be heard at three or four miles' distance and 

 sometimes more. I shall sum up these owl yarns 

 with the narration of a trick I played upon my 

 brother Firmin. It was a common thing to shoot 

 owls at night, while they were perched on the 

 outhouses, fence posts and trees in the vicinity of 

 the house. Going outside our door one evening I 

 saw one of our cats crouching on the gable end 



