238 BIRD-LAND ECHOES. 



fiendish side of the little screech-owl, which cannot 

 be concealed in the town owl ; but its respectable 

 cousins in the country are content with mice, and 

 therein lies their safety. The melancholy cry of 

 this bird is so refined that it scarcely rouses a sad 

 thought in us, and I ask no better prelude to retro- 

 spection. 



The iteration of the leaf-cricket on an August 

 evening, the cry of toads at night in early summer, 

 and the gentle, half-complaining whoo-oo-o, now so 

 low as to be scarcely audible, and then rising to 

 peevish fretfulness, these sounds bring up visions of 

 days gone by when the world about me was more 

 of a mystery and therefore to my eyes far more 

 beautiful than now. Not a creature then but was, 

 in my imagination, invested with qualities that I have 

 since found it does not possess. Every little owl 

 then was as an eagle and the easy master of ven- 

 turesome small boys. 



Here in New Jersey the snowy owl is but a rare 

 winter visitor, and were it not for its beautiful plu- 

 mage and great size, would not attract much atten- 

 tion. It has, when here, no marked characteristics 

 that make it essentially different from other owls, 

 except, of course, that it is a "day" bird. 



Under date of December 14, 1895, Mr. Cram 

 writes, "The other day, as I stood in the door, look- 

 ing north, I saw an Arctic owl flying steadily along 

 over the meadows. As seen against the dark pine 

 woods it appeared perfectly white. It alighted for 

 a moment, first in one great elm and then another, 



