SOME CURIOUS COCOONS 151 



ing but a disjointed skeleton and a tiny pile of 

 fur. Ah, had I only known then what I dis- 

 covered a year or two later — the secret of that 

 big hollow in the willow -tree above - my little 

 pile of fur and bones would easily have been 

 explained, for there summer after summer sat 

 the little brown screech-owl, blinking in the sun 

 at her doorway, peeping through the tiny cracks 

 of her closed eyelids at noon, and at midnight 

 commanding a view of the entire surrounding 

 sedgy swamp in her eager quest for the first un- 

 fortunate shrew or deer-mouse that should peep 

 its nose out of its nest or venture across the ice 

 in the field of her staring vision. 



The new-fallen snow would doubtless show as 

 many telltales of midnight tragedies among the 

 little bead-eyed folk — the tiny trail terminating in 

 a drop of blood, and a suggestive ruffling of the 

 surrounding snow, with its plain witness of the 

 fatal swoop of "owl on muffled wing" from its 

 vantage-ground here in the willow-tree. To-night 

 our little deer -mouse ventured too far from its 

 nest among the tussocks. To-morrow night all 

 that will be left of its sprightly squeaking identity 

 will be a tiny pile of fur and bones disgorged in 

 the form of pellets from the open beak of the owl 

 on the willow-tree. 



In regard to these specimen pellets which my 

 correspondent has sent to me for identification, 



