BARRED OWLS IN CAPTIVITY. 115 



the light goes out while Fluffy is flying in my 

 cellar in the evening, he is sure to crash into 

 something or fall heavily to the ground. I have 

 held Puffy close to a cat in the dark, and he was 

 wholly unaware of her presence. Neither of 

 them has ever shown a dislike for sunlight, and, 

 as will be seen hereafter, they can see without 

 difficulty in the face of the brightest natural 

 light. While watching anything which inter- 

 ests them they have a most characteristic habit 

 of throwing their heads far forward and then 

 swinging them about like signal lanterns, or 

 waving them back and forth and up and down, 

 as if seeking the clearest avenue of vision to 

 the object of interest. This trick is probably 

 due to their ancestors' peering through thick 

 branches in search of prey. 



About the third week in September, 1888, the 

 owls were sent by freight from Chocorua to 

 Cambridge. The journey failed to disturb them, 

 and they took kindly to city life in a sunny cor- 

 ner of my cellar. Their near neighbors were 

 my hens, who resented deeply my early experi- 

 ments in letting the owls out in their narrow do- 

 minion. The hens fought them bravely when 

 brought to close quarters. My first test with 

 the owls at liberty proved that they neither 

 feared me nor desired to attack me. They rec- 

 ognized me as their caterer, and hailed my ap- 



