THE OWL KIND. 81 



stationary: he takes his residence upon some shock of coin, or the 

 point of some old house, and there watches in the dark, with the ut 

 most perspicacity and perseverance. 



Nor are these birds by any means silent ; they all have a hideous 

 note, which, while pursuing their prey, is seldom heard, but rr ay be 

 considered rather as a call to courtship. There is something always 

 terrifying in this call, whichais often heard in the silence of midnight, 

 and breaks the general pause with a horrid variation. It is different 

 in all ; but in each it is alarming and disagreeable. Father Kircher, 

 who has set the voices of birds to music, has given all the tones of the 

 owl note, which makes a most tremendous melody. Indeed, the 

 prejudices of mankind are united with their sensations to make the 

 cry of the owl disagreeable. The screech-owl's voice was always 

 considered among the people as a presage of some sad calamity that 

 was soon to ensue. 



They seldom, however, are heard while they are preying, that im- 

 portant pursuit is always attended with silence, as it is by no means 

 their intention to disturb or forewarn those little animals they wish to 

 surprise. When their pursuit has been successful, they soon return 

 to their solitude, or to their young, if that be the season. If, how- 

 ever, they find but little game, they continue their quest still longer ; 

 and it sometimes happens that, obeying the dictates of appetite rather 

 than of prudence, they pursue so long that broad day breaks in upon 

 them, and leaves them dazzled, bewildered, and at a distance from 

 home. 



In this distress they are obliged to take shelter in the first tree or 

 hedge that offers, there to continue concealed all day, till the return- 

 ing darkness once more supplies them with a better plan of the coun- 

 try. But it too often happens that with all their precaution to conceal 

 themselves, they are spied out by the other birds of the place, and are 

 sure to receive no mercy. The blackbird, the thrush, the jay, the 

 bunting, and the red-breast, all come in file, and employ their little arts 

 of insult and abuse. The smallest, the feeblest, and the most con- 

 lemptible of this unfortunate bird's enemies are then the foremost to 

 injure and torment him. They increase their cries and turbulence 

 round him, flap him with their wings, and are ready to show their 

 courage to be great, as they are sensible that their danger is but 

 small. The unfortunate owl, not knowing where to attack, or where 

 to fly, patiently sits and suffers all their insults. Astonished and 

 dizzy, he only replies to their mockeries by awkward and ridiculous 

 gestures, by turning his head, and rolling his eyes with an air of stu- 

 pidity. It is enough that an owl appears by day to set the whole 

 grove into a kind of uproar. Either the aversion all the small birds 

 have to this animal, or the consciousness of their own security, makes 

 them pursue him without ceasing, while they encourage each other by 

 their mutual cries to lend assistance in this laudable undertaking. 



It sometimes happens, however, that the little birds pursue their 

 insults with the same imprudent zeal with which the owl himself had 

 pursued his depredations. They hunt him the whole day until even- 

 ing returns, which restoring him his faculties of sight once more, he 

 makes the foremost of his pursuers pay dear for their former sport , 

 nor is man always an unconcerned spectator here. The bird-catch- 



