Saw- whet Homes 55 



The parents at first were shy, flying in circles overhead and calling 

 in their clear voices to each other. After reconnoitering, they evidently 

 arranged a plan of action. Both disappeared entirely; then I heard a 

 call and, looking up, saw on the brow of the hill to the left, away from 

 the nest, which was to the right, a bird I judged to be the male. He 

 ran toward me, called, ran still nearer, then flew away; and as I looked 

 toward the nest I saw the mother just leaving. In this way he tried to 

 attract my attention every time the female neared the site of their precious 

 home. Then I watched the mother. She never flew to the nest. 1 

 would first see her on the hillside some distance away running around as 

 though she had no particular aim in life, but still she kept getting nearer 

 and nearer to the nest. The surface of the ground was rough with 

 stones, ridges, hollows, and drifts of snow, and taking advantage of these 

 she would finally run quickly a short distance, stop and huddle down, then 

 run, and in this way reach the nest. As I could only get an occasional 

 glimpse of her when nearing her young, she time after time fed them 

 and flew away before I could be sure she was in a position that would 

 not cast a shadow on them. I have watched Phcebes, Robins, Wax- 

 wings and other birds feed their young, but I never saw it done so quickly 

 or in such a secretive manner. 



They grew so fast that they crowded one another out of the nest, 

 which was on such a slant that before they were half grown they would 

 tumble out and roll a little ways down hill, and twice I had to replace 

 them. I intended getting a picture of the birds when they were nearly 

 feathered, but cloudy weather followed by storms of rain and snow pre- 

 vented. Ten days after hatching it was again clear and I went to get 

 another negative, but found that the nest was empty. 



Saw-whet Homes 



BY P. B. PEABODY, Hibbing. Minnesota 



With photographs from nature by the author 



THE breeding habits of the Acadian Owl are little known even by 

 those who are personally familiar with the little fellow. But there 

 are haunts of his where the patient may find him thoroughly at 

 home. Riding across a sea of flooded prairie, along the Red River of the 

 North, April 4, 1898, on the saddest of errands, I renewed acquaintance 

 with the Saw-whet, after an interim of many years. Brought to a halt 

 by a washed-out bridge, I had led my mare over a twelve-foot drift to 

 shelter, and kept on along the railroad track that threaded the waste of 

 waters. It was near midnight. Nearing Hallock, along the South Fork, 

 narrowly, but heavily, wooded with primeval trees, I heard, delightedly. 



