BIRDS OF THE NIGHT 215 



branches high into the air, its lower boughs had 

 been broken by wind, storm, and heavy snows, 

 but the topmost ones were yet untouched and 

 waved their grey-green needles gaily against the 

 blue sky. Below, its roots penetrated far into the 

 soil, though constant winds and rain had bared 

 the uppermost, so that they ran like red fingers 

 until lost among the ferns and moss. But it was 

 not the tree, it was a platform of sticks and twigs 

 high up in its boughs, that attracted my atten- 

 tion, over the edge of which three weird, little, 

 round white faces were peering down at me. 

 They looked like little old elfen women with 

 shawls round their heads. They were young 

 Long-Eared Owls, and were just at that age when 

 owlets begin to scramble to the edge of the nest 

 and look down upon the world. In another two 

 or three days they would be strong enough to 

 get out on to the branches near at hand, though 

 not yet able to fly, at which stage the sight of 

 anything strange makes them freeze into motion- 

 less excrescences of the bark, when they are 

 easily overlooked. The perching stage, during 

 which they squeak plaintively to their parents 

 to bring them food, passes rapidly into that 

 when they are strong on the wing, and able to 

 follow the old birds about. 



Failing an old hawk's nest, or some such site 

 up a tree, the Long-Eared Owl will descend to 

 the ground, and it is not unusual to find it 

 nesting under a bush, or beneath no more 

 skelter than that afforded by a tuft of grass. 



