Screech Owl Johnnie 3°? 



had him in my hand, which argues well for a new method in ornithological 

 investigations, one warranted to leave nestlings unhurt and their mothers 

 untroubled. 



No sooner had I returned to the house, delighted with the discovery of our 

 little neighbor, than the voices of his parents were heard out by the trellis. 

 They had been silent witnesses to my flashlight examination of their nestling. 

 Characteristic quavering Screech Owl calls and low, short, barking cries 

 sounded within a ston6's-throw of my window, and I peered out into the dark- 

 ness, vainly trying to see what the birds were doing. What an opportunity 

 to watch a family! I flashed my torch, but it would not carry. How ex- 

 asperating ! And still the soft quavering cries rang in my ears. 



The next morning, when sitting on a log watching for Western Winter 

 Wrens, I heard a Western Robin calling distractedly from the head of the 

 garden. "Owls," I said to myself, and hurried over. The Robin, assuming 

 the role of Town Crier, was inside a little grove where Western Golden-crowned 

 Kinglets came afternoons, and was screeching shrilly enough to rouse the 

 neighborhood. Forcing my way through brakes up to my shoulders, I entered 

 the grove and was just about putting down my camp-stool when — there on 

 the ground facing me a ball of gray down was snapping its bill at me! By 

 daylight the dark barring made it look gray, instead of white as by flashlight. 

 The infant Owl made a pass with his wings that suggested the threatening 

 pose of the Long-eared Owl, and wormed his head and neck around, his 

 small yellow orbs fixed on me with ominous malevolence. 



Owl noises from a tree a few yards away led me to discover one of the 

 parents on a branch close to a trunk — Screech Owl written all over it, from 

 its wide, cat-like ears to its rotund, dark brown body. It craned down, looking 

 my M-ay and making anxious sounds that suggested the wnk-wiik of the Long- 

 eared Owl. But, when I sat down, it returned to a natural position, and the 

 glass revealed its eyes, losing their anxious stare, dulled with sleep ; and soon, 

 turning its back on us, it settled comfortably down for a nap. As it sat doz- 

 ing, I noted the black streaks and white blotches on its feathers, and the 

 brown bark-like tail. A slight movement in a tree close by made me look 

 up. There sat Parent No. 2 on a slender branch about twenty feet from the 

 ground, also near the trunk. Here was the family I had wanted so much to 

 see, right under one roof-tree with me ! Rare good luck, indeed. 



To make better friends with the little Otus, I moved up within about a 

 yard of him, but at this both parents sat up and took notice. No. i raised its 

 cat-like head and looked over its shoulder at me with big, round, yellow eyes, 

 and No. 2 whipped around facing me, leaning down, wide awake, anxiously 

 calling quip, quip, so close that I could see the dark lines about its bill and the 

 dark doubly crossed mesial streaks of its body. The helpless object of all this 

 solicitude was cuddled up close to a supporting hump of earth, wisps of down 

 blowing all over his flulTy little gray form. 



