With Asio in the Greenwood 289 



but probably in sight of it. When I came in and sat down nearby her, one 

 day, she called and craned her neck to see me, but soon accepted me with her 

 usual charity as her harmless, though inquisitive neighbor. When quiet, she 

 gulped as if ejecting a pellet, after which she shook herself, showing her full 

 big-feathered figure. When I came obtrusively near, she flew to a branch in 

 the sun; but, that not being to the liking of an Owl in the daytime, after 

 turning to look over her shoulder, she flew back to a branch in the shade. Once, 

 when sitting on a lower limb that apparently did not please her, she kept 

 raising her face to look up in the top of the tree, with the droll effect of flatten- 

 ing her ears. 



Asio was in her favorite oak when I stopped in, on June 27 — about two 

 weeks from the time that the nest was discovered — and called as usual in the 

 strange, stirring tones that to my ears had become as grateful as weird strains 

 of Norwegian music. She had need to call now, for her family were scattered, 

 apparently only one of the brood being left in the nest. One-ear was not to 

 be found, but another venturesome Owlet was discovered on a dead branch in 

 the sun. When I walked up in sight, this little Two-ears sat up and took 

 notice. He folded his wings close about him and drew himself up tall and thin, 

 as the old ones are said to do, but as Asio had never taken the trouble to do 

 for me. Then, greatly to my surprise and pleasure, he threatened me, fluffing 

 up his feathers till he was as round as a puff-ball, when, spreading his wings at 

 his sides and leaning down with bright yellow eyes upon me, he made small, 

 threatening noises, with many snappings of the bill — a menancing bogy, 

 surely! Let those with no memories of sharp beak and claws stay at their risk! 



A week afterward the old Owl brought her family to hunt about the barn. 

 When I first heard her familiar voice, I hurried to the window and, to my 

 delight, discovered my old friend from the woods perched on top of a telegraph 

 pole by the house. At her call the dogs ran out and stood at the foot of the 

 pole, barking. As they looked up at her, she looked down at them. She was 

 used to their voices, but apparently they made her nervous, for, after fidget- 

 ting about a little, she flew off. Later in the evening the low whistle of the 

 young was heard down by the barn. Were One-ear and Two-ears both there? 



The following night, the familiar big flapping wings and round head crossed 

 from the woods to the granary, where the old Owl lit on the peak of the roof 

 and sat silhouetted against the sky. 



"It can get plenty of rats there," the farmer's mother announced with 

 satisfaction. From the granary Asio flew back to the barn, where also rats 

 were plenty, and from the thin squealing cries of the Owlets it was evident 

 that they were on hand for supper. 



The family were in the woods near the barn, a few nights later, which was 

 the last time I ever saw them. It was so nearly dark we had to feel our way 

 about the low second growth which, in the gloom, seemed deliriously full of 

 mysterious voices and shadowy forms that flitted on ahead of us. When at 



