1 43 THE BARN OWL 



ORDER STRIGES 



FAMILY STRIGID.E 

 Sub-Family STRIGIN^E 



THE BARN OWL 



STRIX FLAMMEA 



Beak yellowish white ; upper parts light tawny yellow minutely variegated 

 with brown, grey, and white ; face and lower plumage white, the feathers 

 of the margin tipped with brown. Length fourteen inches ; breadth 

 nearly three feet. Eggs white. 



Returning from our Summer-evening's walk at the pleasant time 

 when twilight is deepening into night, when the Thrush has piped 

 its last roundelay, and the Nightingale is gathering strength for a 

 flesh flood of melody, a sudden exclamation from our companion 

 ' What was that ? ' compels us to look in the direction pointed at 

 just in time to catch a glimpse of a phantom-like body disappearing 

 behind the hedge-row. But that the air is still, we might have 

 imagined it to be a sheet of silver paper wafted along by the wind, 

 so lightly and noiselessly did it pass on. We know, however, that 

 a pair of Barn Owls have appropriated these hunting-grounds, and 

 that this is their time of sallying forth ; we are aware, too, how 

 stealthily they fly along the lanes, dipping behind the trees, search- 

 ing round the hay-stacks, skimming over the stubble, and all with 

 an absence of sound that scarcely belongs to moving life. Yet, 

 though by no means slow of flight, the Barn Owl can scarcely be 

 said to cleave the air ; rather, it fans its way onwards with its 

 down-fringed wings, and the air, thus softly treated, quietly yields 

 to the gentle force, and retires without murmur to allow it a passage. 

 Not without meaning is this silence preserved. The nimble little 

 animals that constitute the chase, are quick-sighted and sharp of 

 hearing, but the pursuer gives no notice of his approach, and they 

 know not their doom till they feel the inevitable talons in their sides. 

 The victim secured, silence is no longer necessary. The successful 

 hunter lifts up his voice in a sound of triumph, repairs to the nearest 

 tree to regale himself on his prize, and, for a few minutes — that is, 

 until the chase is resumed — utters his loud weird shriek again and 

 again. In the morning, the Owl will retire to his private cell and 

 will spend the day perched on end, dozing and digesting as long as 

 the sunlight is too powerful for his large and sensitive eyes. Peep 

 in on him in his privacy, and he will stretch out or move from side 

 to side his grotesque head, ruffling bis feathers, and hissing as 



