i66 WITH THE WOODLANDERS. 



and the bird was gone. The very last visit I paid 

 them their feathers were coming fast; but never 

 at any time did their position, sleeping or waking, 

 give you the least idea that the objects were birds 

 at all. 



I venture to say very little escapes my notice 

 when I am on the root ; but that hen fern - owl 

 did twice, although I was looking down on her 

 resting-place within a yard of where she was crouch- 

 ing. I did not see her until she dashed up almost 

 in my face. The hen-bird is much lighter in her 

 markings than pater heave-jar; in fact a beautiful 

 and intricate mingling of dull brown, dull ochre- 

 tinged grey, and soiled whites compose the tints of 

 her plumage. 



I have tried to the best of my ability to give some 

 idea of my new experience concerning this beautiful 

 and extraordinary bird, but no words of mine could 

 reproduce the exact picture of one of the most 

 perfect bits of natural mimicry that it has ever 

 been my good fortune to witness. It is not often 

 that a field - naturalist has the opportunity of 

 studying at his leisure a family of fern-owls, or, 

 as they are locally called, heave-jars, for so long a 



