UNDER THE MAPLES 



ternut-tree made me suspect an owl, and that the 

 bird whose cry I heard was in his talons. I was 

 out of my cot and up to the nest in a 

 moment, but the tragedy was over; the birds were 

 all gone, and the night was silent. In the 

 morning I found that a piece of the brittle 

 birch limb had been torn away, enlarging 

 the entrance to the cavity so that the murderous 

 talons of the owl could reach in and seize the young 

 birds. I had been aroused in time to hear the 

 marauder on the roof with one, and then hear its 

 cry as he carried it to the tree. In the grass in 

 front I found one of the young, unable to fly, but 

 apparently unhurt. I put it back in the nest, but 

 it would not stay. The spell of the nest was 

 broken, and the young bird took to the grass 

 again. The parent birds were on hand, much 

 excited, and, when I tried to return the sur- 

 viving bird to the nest, the male came at me 

 fiercely, apparently charging the whole catastrophe 

 to me. 



We had strong proof the previous season that 

 an owl, probably the screech owl, prowled about 

 the house at night. A statuette of myself in clay 

 which a sculptor was modeling was left out one 

 night on the porch, and in the morning its head 

 was unusually bowed. The prints of a bird's 

 talons upon the top told what had happened. In 

 the bronze reproduction of that statuette the head 



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