THE IOWA ORNITHOLOGIST, 



There is no bird that has claimed more oi my attention than 

 this nig-ht wanderer. I have found quite a number of screech owl 

 nests, placed in the hollow of trees. Never would rapping- on the 

 trees bring- the old birds out. Climbing to the nests I have invari- 

 ably had to remove them with my hand. When placed upon a 

 limb of the tree, they would sit quiet with eyelids nearly closed 

 until I had examined the cavity to my satisfaction, then would 

 permit me to replace them on the .eggs, not uttering a sound dur- 

 ing the whole performance. Thinking I mig-ht gain a closer ac- 

 quaintance, I kept two for pets in my den for sometime. During 

 the day they were all stillness and gravity, other than snapping 

 their bills when I approached. No sooner was the sun set than 

 their whole appearance became lively and animated; they ate with 

 great g-reediness any food offered them; flew around the room with 

 the silence of thought and, perching, moaned out their melancholy 

 notes, which reminded me of the shivering moaning of a half- 

 frozen pupp3'. I felt as though they had some hidden sorrow over 

 which they were continually brooding; so I released them, think- 

 ing- perchance they might find consolation in the association of 

 their kind. But only last night I heard them uttering the same 

 whining sound along the banks of a wooded stream- 

 About the same time I heard the owls, a yellow-billed cuckoo 

 (^Coccyzus americanus) struck up a chorus of koxv^ kow, kow^ kow. kow^ 

 — the first notes slowly drawn out, then increasing in rapidity until 

 closing- with a muffled sound. According to tradition "there will 

 be a rain in less than twenty-four hours." No appearance of a 

 storm as yet!* Perhaps this is a young bird that has not developed 

 into a good weather prophet. Not infrequently this bird indulges 

 in its predictions at night. During the nesting season quite a 

 number of our birds occasionally indulge in night solos, I have 

 heard the brown thrasher, the black-throated bunting, and the 

 field sparrow start up a tune, long after most of the birds had 

 wrapped themselves in slumber; at such hours they sing only fit- 

 fully and by brief snatches. 



But to return to young birds: 



Peep, peep, in a prolonged whistling tone, conies from the edge 

 of the field towards the woods. The gentle housewife thinks surely 

 her young turkeys have not wandered thus far from the house, and 

 hastens to the door to listen more closely- Perhaps she takes her 

 bonnet and searches the fence corners carefully on that side of the 



♦Written early in September. 



