90 THE OOLOGIST 
editorial mind at this time. Many 
weary hours have we spent recently in 
trying to unravel the arrangement of 
large collection of eggs that recently 
came into our possession, all because 
of the lack of proper care in original- 
ly marking the specimens. To make 
the markings on the eggs gibe with 
the datas is something of a chore 
when several sets of “a-5” or “1-4” ap- 
pear in the same series. Also a la- 
mentable lack of fullness of details 
is noticeable in many instances in the 
datas, all of which is both mystifying 
and annoying. 
— -—__—_ _ —~ <2  __ —__ 
“March--ing.” 
Howard W. McMillen. 
One Saturday last March, I was in- 
dulging in one of my frequent tramps 
through the woods, then bare and covy- 
ered with snow, when. my attention 
was arrested by a group of blue jays 
holding a noisy consultation over a 
knot hole about twenty feet from the 
ground in an ash tree. At my ap- 
proach they hastily adjourned to an- 
other locality (1 had net presumed it 
was a private affair, judging from the 
racket), while I solved the problem 
which had been the topic of their dis- 
cussion. It was a few minutes work 
to climb to the hole which was large 
enough to admit my arm. By stretch- 
ing this member (which, in my case, is 
more useful than ornamental), I suc- 
ceeded in reaching and bringing to 
light the object of the blue jays’ con- 
cern and my curiosity, a fine gray 
sereech owl. But he presented himself 
rather in the light of a dilemma, for 
two able arms were required for the 
descent, and at least a hand to handle 
the bird. Little things like this, how- 
ever, never trouble an ornithologist. 
I took off a glove, and into it invert- 
ed the bird; if he resented it at all, 
his stoicism did not suffer him to dis- 
play his resentment. 
glove in my teeth, the decent was 
easy. I carried the solemn bird home, . 
exhibited him to the family then put 
him in a cage for a little observation 
and experiment. None of these things 
disturbed the profundity of his medi- 
tations, or melted the iciness of his 
frigid reserve, 
As soon as it was dark, I went out 
to the straw stack and caught a passer 
domesticus, a few of which we suffer 
to remain about the place, and put it 
in the cage with the owl. For the first 
time was his serene majesty disturbed. 
It was hard to distinguish whether owl 
or Sparrow was more frightened. After 
a while the violent agitation of each 
began to subside, the owl began to re- 
sume his hereditary semblance of dig- 
nity, and the sparrow his hereditary 
reality of impudence, which it mani- 
fested by pecking megascops in the 
face. From this front view it seemed 
to recognize an old enemy, and sought 
safety, not in one of the opposite cor- 
ners of the cage, but on the owl’s 
head, where he could not be easily 
reached. This perch soon began to 
manifest its instability, and the spar- 
row took up another quarter of the 
cage. When I left them, the owl 
wore an expression of offended dig- 
nity, and the sparrow was vigilantly 
watching his bunkmate, least he 
should undertake some violence. 
In the morning the sparrow was 
dead. It might have died through 
fear, but, considering its proximity to 
a healthy megascops asio, a more 
patural explanation presents itself. I 
was compelled to be away during the 
day, but at night I found that the body, 
of the passer domesticus had been 
decapitated. Where the head goes, so 
generally goes the body, and I pre- 
sume that it would have been thus 
here; but my purposes had been satis- 
fied, and each were disposed of as they 
merited, I gave the sparrow to the 
cat and the owl to the darkness. 
By holding the 
