THE OOLOGIST. 



great beech tree which stood on the op- 

 posite hillside and determined to exam- 

 ine it. Crossing theintei'vening hollow 

 I had some diiRculty in tinding the right 

 tree again, for the woods were thick and 

 the site of the nest so well chosen that 

 it was not visible from beneath. The 

 tree when found was not hard to climb, 

 for although it was very large its branch- 

 es, as is usual with the beech, commenc- 

 ed near the ground and grew very close 

 together ?o that climbing the tree was 

 simply twisting back and forth and 

 squeezing upward between the thick 

 tangle of branches. 



Near the top of the tree I found the 

 nest, a rude structure of sticks and twigs 

 clumsily put together, and lined with 

 leaves grass and moss. Leaning over 

 the nest to examine the three yellowish 

 white eggs, which were fully two and 

 one quarter inches in diameter, and, like 

 those of all other owls, nearly spherical 

 in shape. I inhaled an odor so strong 

 and offensive that it almost knocked me 

 off my branch. It was the odor of the 

 common skunk, a very useful animal in 

 spite of its dreadful smell, for it subsists 

 on grasshoppers and other injurious in- 

 sects, and also destroys mice. Its smell 

 protects it from many of its foes but not 

 from the Great Horned Owl, for the odor 

 which clung to their nest seemed to in- 

 dicate that the owner ate at least three 

 full meals of skunk meat every day, or 

 rather night, for night is the time of 

 both Owls and skunks. 



Ought I destroy the nest and eggs of 

 this devourer of skunks and suspected 

 robber of hen roosts? I looked at the 

 unhappy bird which had flown from her 

 nest at my approach and saw her try- 

 ing to hide in a thorn bush. The 

 shrill scream of a Jay gave notice to the 

 birds in the surrounding wood that their 

 enemy was in distress and almost help- 

 less in the glaring sunlight. 



Flocking out from hazel thicket, hedge 

 and tree top they surrounded their ha- 

 ted foe, piped, whistled and screamed, 



and apparently called her all the bad 

 names known in bird language. Skip- 

 ping and circling about they drew clos- 

 er and closer to her, growing bolder all 

 the time as they found that in the light 

 she was too awkward to defend herself. 

 Darting forward the boldest Jay gave 

 her a fierce peck and escaped before she 

 could turn her head to strike. Others 

 followed his example and the poor Owl, 

 badly punished", uttered piteous cries of 

 distress and struggled frantically, to 

 hide from her tormentors among the 

 dense clusters of last year's leaves which 

 had caught in drifts in a thorn bush. 



As I watched this unpleasant scene I 

 remembex'ed a story I had heard of a 

 man who tied a captive Owl to a stake 

 and hid near by to shoot the Jays and 

 Cx'ows that gathered to torment the 

 common enemy. From what I had 

 seen I was satisfied the Owl would make 

 an excellent decoy. 



The poor bird certainly had her faults, 

 but she also had troubles of her own, 

 and enemies enough without my join- 

 ing them and molesting her farther, so 

 I climbed down and left her eggs and 

 foul smelling nest uninjured. 



I did not visit the nest again, one 

 smell being quite enough, but another 

 time I was surprised at finding the nest 

 of another Owl in an unexpected place. 

 During the previous spring I had 

 watched a pair of Red-shouldered 

 Hawks building their nest in the top of 

 a large dead tree in the edge of a clear- 

 ing. It was a curious family. The fe- 

 male would sit quietly on a branch, 

 while her mate circled about, high over- 

 head, screaming loudly all the time, 

 and clearing away all other Hawks that 

 ventured in sight, and only visiting her 

 perch occasionally. 



Their nest was a great rough bundle 

 of dry sticks, enough apparently to fill 

 a half bushel basket, and was, doubt- 

 less, lined with dry grass, for that was 

 the only soft material which I ever saw 

 them carry in their beaks.' I was never 



