Billy, a Great Horned Owl 



By DELL COLEMAN, Milwaukee, Wis. 



BILLY and his sister, or brother, — I do not know which — were born in 

 a Crow's nest 12 miles north of Decorah, Iowa. A farm-hand brought 

 them to town and I bought Billy for a dollar. When he first became 

 one of the family he was wrapped in a grayish down with a few pin-feathers 

 for wings, but when put on a ration of liver, English Sparrows, rats and mice 

 he acquired weight and feathers. 



About the last of May he had become an expert flier and a public nuisance. 

 We never kept him shut up or clipped his wings and so helped him indirectly 

 to a great many adventures. 



During most of the day he sat on the peak of the roof to the consternation 

 of all respectable birds who mobbed him unmercifully. He would sit through it 

 all sedately because, above all, Billy was a gentleman and never lost his dignity. 



No sooner would anyone on the street come out and sit on the porch than 

 Billy would make an informal call, prompted, of course, by the hopes of some- 

 thing to eat. He would always alight on the walk, hop up the steps, and then 

 bob his head. If this did not get any results, he would utter a soft III ap, 

 and if there still were no signs of capitulation, he would fly up on the person's 

 knee, head, arm, or shoulder, and this always brought some sort of result, 

 usually ending in a flurry of feathers and Billy on his back in the grass at the 

 foot of the porch — and why? Because Billy was almost 2 feet tall, weighed 

 in proportion, and had claws as big as my hand. 



One morning, two dogs came into the yard, a collie and a bird-dog. Seeing 

 Billy, who was sitting on a stump, they gradually approached. When within 

 20 feet of Billy, the bird-dog slunk away but the collie was curious — so was 

 Billy! He drifted off that stump and onto the collie's back. With a yelp, 

 the collie set about going away from there — Billy decided to go with him — and 

 did! He dug his claws in and hung on, balancing with the aid of his wings, 

 and, beheve it or not, he actually lifted that dog off its hind feet for about 8 

 feet. When the excursion reached the sidewalk, Billy dropped off at the feet 

 of a little girl. With a screech, she followed the collie. I called Billy back 

 and locked him in the chicken-coop. 



This was another of his traits: He would follow a Plymouth Rock hen all 

 over the place if given a chance and never harm her, but was death on cats. 

 One day a stray cat got in the yard and Billy saw it. Quicker than a wink 

 he had that cat back of the head and it was the end of Mr. Cat. I tried to 

 get it away from him and that was the first time he ever got in the least savage. 

 Ordinarily I could roll him around, scratch his head, carry him anywhere and 

 any way and he would never even offer to get mad, but this time he hung onto 

 that cat with one claw and sunk the other into the calf of my leg and tried 

 his best to bite my hand. I had to give up. He never bit or struck at me 

 with his talons again, 



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