HEAD OF BARN 

 OWL 



CHAPTER IV 



The Barn Owl: Stria? Pratincola 



IN DEEP FOREST 



Did you ever traverse the Inland Route, be- 

 fore fire annihilated and lumbermen despoiled its 

 great beauty? There was a charm in every foot 

 of that dark, marshy old northern forest, in the 

 little river flowing swiftly over its bed of golden 

 sand, in the rushy, moss -covered swamps which 

 bordered it and in the clear, cool air, perfumed 

 with dank odors and the resin of pines. 



Forests of spruce, cedar and birch locked 

 branches across the river, among them monster trees had died and 

 lodged at every conceivable angle in falling, the swamp on either 

 hand was scarlet with foxfire, while curious ferns, mosses and 

 lilies lined each bank. All about were traces where deer had been 

 to browse and drink, clumsy bears to eat berries, fish in shallow 

 pools and play havoc with the housekeeping of muskrat and 

 beaver. Fancy peopled these spots with dusky-painted faces, and 

 one could almost hear the water-dripping paddle-blades and the 

 twang of the bow-string. 



We were unusually early that year, and extremely fortunate 

 in securing a guide who was an ardent sportsman and a lover of 

 all wild life. Of course I was more interested than he in secur- 

 ing subjects for my camera, but a casual observer scarcely would 

 have guessed it. My window on the second floor of our stopping- 



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