310 WILD WINGS 



before, on the eighteenth of April. I had casually met this 

 owl in my rambles, but never had learned the secret of its 

 nesting, which is a rare occurrence in southern New England. 

 This day, searching for hawks' nests in the pine woods, I came 

 to a clearing in which stood near together two solitary dead 

 pine stubs, in one of which were several holes made by the 

 Flicker. Arriving beneath these holes, I noticed some sort 

 of excrescence projecting from the stub, partly around on 

 the other side, about fifteen feet up, and stepped to where 

 it could be better viewed. My heart almost stopped beating ! 

 A round disk filled one of the woodpecker cavities. A pair 

 of tiny yellow eyes gazed fixedly upon me. It was no ordi- 

 nary sight ; an owl, but no common Screech Owl. It had no 

 ear-tufts, and was much smaller, the Saw-whet or Acadian 

 Owl! 



There is no telling how long I stood transfixed watching 

 the owl, and the owl, equally motionless, watched me. But 

 the owl was victor, for an aching neck at length interrupted 

 my gaze. Then I lay down on the dry leaves, and, in an 

 easier posture, continued to watch. All the while the owl 

 stared fixedly, and now and then blinked. The sun shone 

 strong and hot, and the bird of night was right in the glare. 

 Sometimes it would close its eyes, and appear asleep. But, 

 at the slightest movement on my part, the yellow orbs would 

 instantly open. Finally the little creature, thinking me harm- 

 less, slid back into her cool and shady retreat within the 

 stub. 



I tried the effect of a slight noise at the foot of the tree. Up 

 popped the little round head. A gentle kick on the stub made 

 her come part way out of the hole, ready to fly ; so I care- 

 fully retreated a few paces. The owl watched me awhile, and 

 then withdrew, appearing again as I approached to see if 

 there were any droppings under the hole. There was nothing 



