The Chorus of the Forest 



And the owl hath a bride who is fond and bold, 

 And she loveth the wood's deep gloom, 



And, with eyes like the shine of a moonstone cold, 

 She awaiteth her ghastly groom." 



The sentiment belongs to the poet, the italics 

 are mine. Now, would you not think that the 

 bride who is "fond and bold," and who "loveth" 

 her home, might have just one line of whole-souled 

 appreciation out of a lengthy poem? But she did 

 not get it because the people who have written the 

 volumes compiled owl history would make have 

 forgotten to give one minute of consideration to 

 the viewpoint of the bird. Do you suppose that 

 to the owl her mate is "dull, hated, despised, spec- 

 tral, ghastly," and only fit company for "doleful 

 creatures, satyrs, and dragons?" If you ever had 

 seen her nestle close to him, rub her head against 

 him, stroke his feathers with her beak, and heard 

 her jabber her love-story to him, you would change 

 your mind speedily, if that is what you have been 

 thinking. 



There is good excuse for other birds fearing 

 the owl. It seems to be ordained by nature that 

 the larger species prey upon the smaller for food, 

 and they suffer from the law without being able 

 to argue its justice. But people have nothing to 

 fear and everything to enlist their sympathy. I 

 think the truth is the shudder that greets the vo- 

 calizing of the owl is not really for the bird at all, 

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