234: CHAPTERS ON THE NATURAL HISTORY 



ington, D. C. When first obtained the bird was largely in late 

 nestling plumage, but during the fortnight it has been in my 

 keeping all the feathering of the breast and back has come out 

 as in the adult. The entire top of the head is as yet woolly as in 

 well-advanced nestlings; while the feather-horns or tufts are 

 but still rudimentary. This bird is taming nicely, and readily 

 feeds upon raw meat, sparrows, mice, etc. During the month of 

 June, 1897, I made several fine photographic pictures of this 

 young ow r l, and of these two are reproduced in the present chap- 

 ter as illustrations. 



In Fig. 59 the bird is standing erect, facing and closely 

 watching the person near him (I say him, but this individual 

 may be a female), while in Fig. 60, a crouching and defensive 

 attitude has been assumed, caused by my teasing, in order to se- 

 cure it. As is well known, owls disgorge from time to time pecu- 

 liar pellets composed of the indigestible portions of their food, 

 as small bones, hair, and feathers. This owl has disgorged two 

 or three of such pellets since having been in my possession. 

 Each was about as big as my thumb, and made up of sparrow 

 feathers and bones; the latter including the entire skull, the 

 limb-bones, and the main ones of the trunk skeleton. This ejec- 

 tion of pellets by the mouth of this kind is done by all owls, 

 " excepting possibly the little Elf Owl," as Bendire says in his 

 Life Histories of North American Birds. Most frequently this 

 species roosts in some dense tree or shrub during the daytime, in 

 the immediate vicinity of water. Years ago, during one winter's 

 day, I surprised one of these owls in a close growth of small 

 hemlocks near Stamford, Connecticut. Upon seeing or hearing 

 me it drew itself up to its full height, and, pressing its feathers 

 close to its body, and erecting its feather-horns to their fullest 

 capacity, it appeared as long and slender as possible; and as it 

 made no movement whatsoever, I came near mistaking it for a 

 longish dead limb of the tree upon which it was perched. At the 

 time the thermometer stood several degrees below zero, the 

 ground being covered with snow, and my hands and fingers were 

 utterly benumbed with the biting cold. The timber was so 

 dense that I backed away from the fellow with decided diffi- 

 culty, holding onto, at the same time, my old muzzle-loading and 

 ice-cold gun, a shot from which, a few moments later, decided 

 the fate of that very handsome owl. Winged, it tumbled down 

 into the snow, and I made a rush for it, and incautiously seized 



