IN THE CATSKILLS 



in architecture is here! Here is a house that was 

 built, but with such loving care and such beautiful 

 adaptation of the means to the end, that it looks 

 like a product of nature. The same wise economy is 

 noticeable in the nests of all birds. No bird could 

 paint its house white or red, or add aught for show. 

 At one point in the grayest, most shaggy part of 

 the woods, I come suddenly upon a brood of screech 

 owls, full grown, sitting together upon a dry, moss- 

 draped limb, but a few feet from the ground. I 

 pause within four or five yards of them and am 

 looking about me, when my eye lights upon these 

 gray, motionless figures. They sit perfectly upright, 

 some with their backs and some with their breasts 

 toward me, but every head turned squarely in my 

 direction. Their eyes are closed to a mere black 

 line; through this crack they are watching me, evi- 

 dently thinking themselves unobserved. The spec- 

 tacle is weird and grotesque, and suggests some- 

 thing impish and uncanny. It is a new effect, the 

 night side of the woods by daylight. After observ- 

 ing them a moment I take a single step toward them, 

 when, quick as thought, their eyes fly wide open, 

 their attitude is changed, they bend, some this way, 

 some that, and, instinct with life and motion, stare 

 wildly around them. Another step, and they all 

 take flight but one, which stoops low on the branch, 

 and with the look of a frightened cat regards me 

 for a few seconds over its shoulder. They fly swiftly 

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