286 Bird -Lore 



sneezed, two Owlets rose in the nest, with comical wisps of erect ears and 

 blackish streaks marking eyes and bill. Five young there proved to be on 

 June 15, when their landlord, the owner of the big wheat farm, climbed to 

 the nest to investigate. The Owlets already had the instinct of self-preser- 

 vation, and snapped their bills at him ominously. 



While the farmer was at the nest, Asio, who had flown off on our approach, 

 flew back to the top of a dead tree nearby. When anxious, as now, the strong 

 lines of the white V over her bill intensified her drawn owlish expression. She 

 was indeed a somber bird in the shadow, for it took a good light to bring out 

 the warm tawny tone of the facial disk and the rich ochraceous tinge of the 

 brown-streaked breast. How big and dark she looked on a bare limb! Seeing 

 three people at the foot of her nest tree, and one up in the tree, the terrified 

 parent broke out into loud startling cries, uttered in a thin nasal tone and tense 



with anxiety: „ 



Quant, quant, quant, quant, quant. 



Judged by ordinary bird calls, this was a most singular cry; and, as I 

 found afterward, the Asio repertoire includes a variety of queer notes, of 

 strange unbird-like noises. Wook-wuk-wak, wook-wuk-wak-wak, wook-wuk- 

 wuk were among them; and, in watching the nest from day to day, other 

 variations were heard, all quaint and curious and delightfully full of flavor. 



Two days after the discovery of the five young Owlets, I took my camp- 

 stool to the woods and made the family a long visit. Asio was on the nest 

 when I arrived and, though apparently sound asleep, quickly flew out to a 

 branch to inspect me; after which she flew away, perhaps in the vain hope that 

 I would follow. While she was gone, one of the Owlets sat up in the nest and 

 wriggled around, as if trying to plume its down, which had begun to show sug- 

 gestions of vermiculation. Meanwhile a fuzzy brother (?) Owlet sat nearby, 

 with eyes shut, looking drolly like a china cracker-box with the cover on! 



Did these heedless young ones need to be warned, or what was the meaning 

 of the calls of the old bird when she flew back to the trees near the nest — the 

 muffled wuff, wuff, wuff, and the raucous wuk-wuk-wak-wak? Whatever it 

 meant to the brood, the birds of the neighborhood took alarm at the cries. 

 Big Wings was abroad! A Goldfinch gave its warning cry, an Oriole chattered 

 and scolded excitedly, and a Wren flew around distractedly, adding to the 

 hysterical outburst that, according to time-honored custom, always greets 

 an Owl indiscreet enough to appear in public in the daytime. During all this 

 hubbub, the downy Owlets stood at attention; comical, over-serious little 

 fellows, staring dumbly out of big yellow eyes that seemed to look through 

 black-rimmed spectacles. 



Then came a parental wuk-wuk-wuk, queck-wak-wak, and a pair of broad 

 brown wings passed through the greenery, followed by the smaller black 

 wings of Bronzed Grackles. Instead of going to the nest, Asio perched on the 

 dead tip of a vertical branch and said whoof, whoof, whoof, whoof; but when 



