THE GREAT HORNED OWL. 61 



their inner webs with dark-fulvous; a black spot above the eye; radiating feathers 

 behind the eye, varying in color from nearly white to dark reddish-fulvous, usually 

 the latter ; feathers of the facial disc tipped with black ; throat and neck before, white ; 

 breast with wide longitudinal stripes of black; other under parts variegated w"th 

 white and fulvous, and every feather having transverse, narrow lines of dark-brown , 

 middle of the abdomen li-equently, but not always, white ; legs and toes varying 

 from white to dark-fulvous, usually pale-fulvous ; in most specimens unspotted, but 

 frequently, and probably always in fully mature specimens, with transverse, narrow 

 bars of dark -brown; quills brown, with wide transverse bands of cinereous, and 

 usually tinged on the inner webs with pale fulvous; tail the same, with the fulvous 

 predominating on the outer feathers; iris yellow; bill and claws bluish-black. 



Dimensions. — Female, length, twenty-one to twenty-live inches; wing, fourteen 

 and a half to sixteen ; tail, ten inches. Male, eighteen to twenty-one inches ; wing, 

 fourteen to fifteen ; tail, nine inches. 



THIS well-known bird is a resident in all tlie New-England 

 States throughout the year. It is not so common in Mas- 

 sachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island as in the other 

 States, where, in the vast tracts of forest, it is quite abun- 

 dant ; so much so, that I have heard several of them at the 

 same time making " night hideous with their discordant, 

 mournful cries." Never shall I forget a serenade I once had 

 the pleasure of hearing in the State of Maine, in which this 

 bird maintained the basso. We were encamped on the 

 shores of Lake Umbagog : our tent was pitched on a bluff 

 overlooking the lake, and behind us was the deep, dark 

 forest of pines and hemlocks. We had just got fairly into 

 our first nap, the sweet follower of our day's toils, when we 

 were awakened by the hootings of one of these owls, " Waugh, 

 hoo, hoo, hoo!" or "Who cooks for you?" as the Western 

 traveller understood it, which seemed to be addressed to us 

 from a tree almost over our tent. We listened : presently 

 another took up the theme, and then both together. They 

 had scarcely finished their duet, when, from away up the 

 lake, came the shrill, mournful cry or scream of the Loon : 

 tliis was continued and answered by others, until, with owls 

 and loons,, the night was vocal with melodious sounds. 

 After this had died away, and all was still, there came from 

 a bush near our tent the almost heavenly song of the White- 

 throated Sparrow, the " Nightingale of the North." One 



