22 STRIGID^. 



Horace's witch, Canidia, uses the plumage of the owl in her 

 incantation, and, doubtless, Macbeth had ne'er been king, if 

 the owlet's foot was not introduced into the bubbling cauldron ; 

 so that we see, from remote antiquity to the present time, 

 all agree in selecting the undeserving and harmless owl as a 

 mark on which to heap unfounded and ignorant prejudices. 



Did the barn owl but pursue its nightly avocations under 

 the broad glare of day, many prejudiced opinions respecting 

 it would necessarily be refuted, and the farmer and agricul- 

 turist would join in offering an asylum to this much persecuted 

 bird. 



But it is otherwise, the time chosen by the great and de- 

 structive tribe of the Rodentia to continue their depredations 

 is, when 



" the knell of parting day" 



leaves no disturber to prevent the damages committed by those 

 destructive pests. 

 Then 



" doing her good deeds in the dark," 



the owl silently leaves her ivied nook, and on noiseless pinions, 

 " winnowing the air," successfully scours along the places fre- 

 quented by her nimble prey. 



Gliding along in silence, the open field and the hedgerow are 

 carefully searched over, until the chief place of his operations 

 is approached the corn-stacks in the barn-yard. Onlv ob- 

 served at intervals, he circles each stack so noiseless in his 

 flight, and so quickly lost to view in the dusk of twilight, that 

 you can scarcely credit having seen him until he has vanished. 



Nor are the excursions of the barn owl confined to the country 

 districts, as we have frequently observed it skimming in the 

 most central parts of the city of Dublin, and remarked spe- 

 cimens which were shot in the Coburg Gardens and Stephen's- 

 green. The latter place I have known the barn owl to fre- 

 quent regularly every evening during summer, and on several 

 occcasions believed it to be feeding upon the large ghost moth, 

 which occurs there in great abundance during the season. 

 Some years since, one of those birds selected for residence a 

 nook in the tower of St. Patrick's Cathedral, where it might 

 be observed at dusk preening itself in preparation for its 

 nocturnal ramble. 



An owl of this species, captured alive, and for which I was 

 indebted to the kindness of a friend, made its exit from my 



