38 February Feathers [FIRST WEEK 



fectly barren of life; insects dead, leaves fallen, and sap 

 frozen ; but the warm hearts of these venerable trees may 

 shelter much beside the larvaB of boring beetles, and we 

 may reap a winter harvest of which the farmer knows 

 nothing. 



Poke a stick into a knot-hole and stir up the leaves 

 at the bottom of the cavity, and then look in. Two great 

 yellow eyes may greet you, glaring intermittently, and 

 sharp clicks may assail your ears. Reach in with your 

 gloved hand and bring the screech owl out. He will 

 blink in the sunshine, ruffling up his feathers until he is 

 twice his real size. The light partly blinds him, but toss 

 him into the air and he will fly without difficulty and 

 select with ease a secluded perch. The instant he alights 

 a wonderful transformation comes over him. He stiffens, 

 draws himself as high as possible, and compresses his 

 feathers until he seems naught but the slender, broken 

 stump of some bough, ragged topped (thanks to his 

 " horns "), gray and lichened. It is little short of a miracle 

 how this spluttering, saucer-eyed, feathered cat can melt 

 away into woody fibre before our very eyes. 



We quickly understand why in the daytime the little 

 owl is so anxious to hide his form from public view. Al- 

 though he can see well enough to fly and to perch, yet 

 the bright sunlight on the snow is too dazzling to permit 

 of swift and sure action. All the birds of the winter 

 woods seem to know this and instantly take advantage of 

 it. Sparrows, chickadees, and woodpeckers go nearly wild 

 with excitement when they discover the little owl, hovering 

 about him and occasionally making darts almost in his 



