THE NIGHT SIDE OF NATURE 



TWILIGHT AND NIGHT FLIERS 



" WHEN comes still evening on, and twilight grey 

 hath in her sober liv'ry all things clad," then it is 

 that the white owl comes abroad. How soft is her 

 plumage, how noiseless her flight! Watch her 

 as she floats past the ivy tod, down by the ricks, 

 and silently over the old wood; then away over the 

 meadows, through the open door, and out of the 

 loophole of the barn ; round the lichened tower, and 

 along the course of the brook. Presently she returns 

 to her four downy young, with a mouse in one claw 

 and a vole in the other, soon to be ripped up, torn, 

 and eaten by the greedy, snapping imps. Young birds 

 and eggs are not infrequently found in the same nest. 

 Much unnatural history has been written of 

 owls, and unfortunately most people take their 

 ideas of them from the poets. It is unnatural to assert, 

 as they do, that barn owls ever mope, or mourn, or 

 are melancholy. Neither are they grave monks, nor 

 anchorites, nor pillared saints. A boding bird or a 

 dolorous! Nonsense! They are none of these. 



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