5076 THE ZOOLOGIST—SEPTEMBER, 1876. 
resemble the city of Boston, with its tortuous and devicus streets. The 
dogs are continually busy in fair weather in repairing and extending their 
establishments; the main entrances may be compared to the stump of a 
hollow tree, the interior of which communicates with many hollow branches 
that moreover intersect, these passages finally ending in little pockets, the 
real home of the animals. It is quite possible that the respective retreats of 
an owl and a dog may have but one vestibule, but even this does not imply 
that they nest together. It is strong evidence in point, that, usually, 
there are the fewest owls in the towns most densely populated by the dogs, 
and conversely. Scarcity of food, of water, or some obscure cause, often 
makes the dogs emigrate from one locality to another; it is in such ‘deserted 
villages’ that the owls are usually seen in the greatest numbers. I have 
never seen them so numerous as in places where there were plenty of holes, 
but where scarcely a stray dog remained.” 
The nest of the burrowing owl is described as very filthy. The 
birds carry into it all manner of refuse. One nest which was 
examined was found to be well filled “ with dry, soft horse-dung, 
bits of an old blanket, and fur of a coyote” (Canis latrans). The 
whole nest swarmed with fleas. In the passage leading to it were 
scraps of dead animals, such as pieces of the skin of the antelope, 
half-dried and half-putrefied ; the skin of the coyoté, and part of a 
snake on which the birds had been feeding. Seven young birds 
were in the nest, all balls of down. In general the burrowing owl 
is an insect-feeder, running over the prairie in search of grass- 
hoppers and small lizards, but nothing comes very much amiss to 
it. Our last quotation from Dr. Coues’ book shall be his amusing 
account of the gesticulations of these owls :— 
““As commonly observed, perched on one of the innumerable little 
eminences that mark a dog-town, amid their curious surroundings, they 
present a spectacle not easily forgotten. Their figure is peculiar, with their 
long legs and short tail; the element of the grotesque is never wanting; it 
is hard to say whether they look most ludicrous as they stand stiffly erect 
and motionless, or when they suddenly turn tail to duck into the hole, or 
when engaged in their various antics. Bolt upright, on what may be 
imagined their rostrum, they gaze about with a bland and self-satisfied, but 
earnest air, as if about to address an audience upon a subject of great pith 
and moment. They suddenly bow low, with profound gravity, and rising as 
abruptly, they begin to twitch their face and roll their eyes about in the 
most mysterious manner, gesticulating wildly, every now and then bending 
forward till the breast almost touches the ground, to propound the argument 
with more telling effect. ‘Then they face about to address the rear, that all 
