Jan., 1908 



NESTING OF THE WESTERN HORNED OWL IN COLORADO 



15 



nest was some sort of a myth or that a charm of some kind protected it from 

 discovery, and it was with a decided lack of confidence that the search was renewed 

 for another year, early on the morning of March 10, 1907. 



A brisk ride of ten miles brought us to our field of operations: a typical prairie 

 creek with a wide sandy bed, over which very little water was flowing, and bor- 

 dered on either side by low bluffs and occasional groves of cottonwoods and scrub 

 willows. 



Practically the only signs of spring discernible were a few scattered Robins, 

 new arrivals from their winter homes, an occasional blade of green grass and a 

 flock of noisy Red- winged Blackbirds at the very top of a tall naked cottonwood, 

 each apparently trying his best to outdo the melodious "kong-ker-ee" of the rest. 



After following the course of the creek about a mile we came to a grove which 

 filled every requirement for 

 an ideal nesting site of our 

 friend Bubo. The grove 

 lay between the creek bed 

 and an abrupt bluff protect- 

 ing it from the north, and 

 at the foot of which lay a 

 slough overgrown with 

 tules, cattails and rank 

 grass, now dead, dry and 

 yellow but furnishing ex- 

 cellent cover for a variety 

 of small bird life. The 

 timber was very dense in 

 places and more open in 

 others, affording a welcome 

 retreat for almost any type 

 of bird and thus an abun- 

 dance of food for any pre- 

 datory birds hunting in the 

 grove. 



We had almost completed 

 a thoro search of the 

 grove without results when 

 out flopped a big owl from 

 a dense scrub willow tree 

 within a few feet of us. A 

 close scrutiny of the tree 



failed to reveal a nest, so a systematic search of the grove was begun. As no dead 

 trees of any size were seen we concluded that the nest must be in one of the old 

 magpie's nests which abounded all thru the grove. So arming ourselves with 

 sticks we began an animated bombardment of each nest. After considerable hard 

 work and as we were nearing the outer edge of the grove a nest was encountered 

 which was so small and dilapidated in appearance that it hardly seemed worth while 

 to throw at it, but as the second stick thrown crashed heavily against the nest Mrs. 

 Bubo rose clumsily from the nest and launching herself slowly into the air silently 

 flapped out of sight. 



Just how long it took the writer to climb that tree is not part of the story but 

 it was pretty close to 0:00 flat, and as his head came to a level with the nest there 



WESTERN HORNED OWL ON NEST 



