Music of the Wild 



to be unhappy over anything, and so, of course, 

 their songs are of love and contentment. 



The owl has been shuddered at for a sufficient 

 length of time. Now for a change I wish to sug- 

 The Owls' gest that the people who write further history of 

 Serenade j-^ p u j. themselves in the bird's place and describe 

 his song as it is sung,, and not as it appeals to the 

 interpreter's fancy. I love to hear a screech owl 

 screech. It means that he is having a hilarious 

 time. His heart is bubbling over with the joy of 

 cool, dim night life in the orchard, or throbbing 

 with the exultation of the mating fever. He is a 

 friendly, social bird. Every winter he comes 

 around the cabin hunting food, and he will answer 

 my repetition of his calls until I become uncom- 

 fortable and close the window. Every time he lifts 

 his voice he is either locating his mate, happy 

 enough to talk about it or pleading for a wife 

 and home. He is the most contented bird of the 

 orchard and almost without exception its only 

 night singer. 



A hollow apple tree is his favorite home, and 

 from four to six the number of his children. I 

 doubt if the anatomy of any bird contains a mem- 

 ber more wonderful than the eye of an owl. The 

 organ of vision is fixed in a socket so that the bird 

 turns its head instead of its eyes, and they are sur- 

 rounded by a reflector of fine, closely set feathers, 

 while the composition of the ball is so intricate as 

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