The Marquess of Tavistock—My Pigmy Owl 51


my next visit to London, I saw the other little fellow, and at once

realized that he was sufficiently like my favourite to be worth buying,

although he looked dirty and woebegone. A few days later he arrived,

very sorry for himself and with one eye closed—a common habit with

owls when feeling out of sorts which leads the inexperienced to suspect

an injury. After a night’s rest and a good meal of sparrow, “ Owlikins ”

seemed much more lively—he was an adult bird and untamed, except

in so far as his travels had accustomed him to the sight of human beings.

On examining him carefully, however, I was very disappointed to find

that his beak had been severely injured, apparently by thebite of another

bird ; the upper mandible was nearly bitten through at the base and

much twisted, and a large piece of one nostril was entirely gone. Next

day the twisted mandible had been broken clean off, and I was afraid

I should have to destroy the poor little chap as it seemed hardly possible

he could feed. However, a little coaxing revealed the fact that he could

swallow pieces of food put into his mouth, and later I found out that

with the aid of his claws he could feed himself on chopped-up food,

though he was quite unable to tear skin or bones. The most annoying

result of his mutilation is his inability to keep his feathers clean,

necessitating assistance from me which is much resented. So far I

have been unable to induce him to take any kind of bath. Little Owls

very seldom bathe, but they love an occasional sprinkling, with water

or exposure to a shower of rain ; Owlikins hates being sprinkled, and

was so miserable after a forcible wetting I once gave him that I was

quite afraid he would die. I have never seen him drink, although I should

not like to say he never does so ; Little Owls drink sparingly when

adult, but, according to my experience, not at all for the first few months

of their existence. For some months I had very little time to devote

to Owlikins, and could not let him out of his cage. Before long, however,

he would jump on to my knee for food with a little coaxing, and allow

me to stroke his head. He is as diurnal in his habits as a Little Owl,

and like all “ haggards ” of that species I have tamed, exceedingly

gentle, never showing the smallest sign of temper as hand-reared birds

will sometimes do. As compared with a Little Owl he appears to possess

a very limited vocabulary. So far I have only heard him utter a clear

musical whistle, usually about dawn, and a finch-like cheep, which



