STRIG1D&. 7 



the holidays, the difficulty was to catch one alive. 

 However a deus ex machind arose in the shape 

 of our old gamekeeper's son. This worthy, Charles 

 by name, loaded his gun with split peas, which 

 he informed me would stun the bird only, and 

 while it was in that state it would fall an easy prey. 



' I thought this rather improbable, but set off 

 with him to the plantation. After a long and hot 

 search, for it was a broiling day in June, we espied 

 an owl perched high up in a fir-tree and gazing 

 down at us with its big yellow eyes. Bang ! and 

 down it came, with blood streaming from its head, 

 and apparently as dead as any door-nail. My 

 coadjutor, however, promptly enveloped it in his 

 velveteen coat, and in a few minutes it was hissing 

 and scratching to an alarming extent. We found 

 afterwards that only one pea had struck it, just 

 above the ear. I consigned it to a hen-coop, and 

 for a long time despaired of taming it, but a low 

 diet worked wonders, and eventually it became so 

 tame that it would ride about on my wrist or head 

 I put up two or three perches in an old ivy-covered 

 tree on the lawn, where it would sit very con- 

 tentedly ; at night, for greater safety, it was con- 

 signed to an old dog-kennel. 



' Alas ! my owl was but mortal, and I found him 

 one cold winter's morning a frozen corpse. I had 

 my old favourite's head preserved, and it now hangs 

 over a formidable array of pipes. Sometimes when 



