MOTTLED OWL-RED-SHOULDERED HAWK. 



125 



manner of all Owls. It soon grew tamer, however, and would 

 regard me with a wise stare, as if perfectly understanding that I 

 was a friend. 



"In a short time it would take food from me without fear; I 

 never saw it drink, although water was kept constantly near it. 

 Its food consisted of mice, birds, and butchers' meat, on which it 

 fed readily. I kept the bird caged for about two weeks, during 

 which time it became quite tame, but would not tolerate handling, 

 always threatening me with its beak, when my hands approached 

 it. As the wires of its cage broke its feathers, when moving about, 

 and as it hardly seemed resigned to confinement, I opened its cage 

 and gave it the freedom of the room, leaving the windows open 

 nights and day. About this time I gave it the name of < Scops,' 

 to which in a little while it would answer, when called, with a low 

 rattle, which sounded like the distant note of the Kingfisher. 



"One morning, Scops was missing; diligent search was made 

 for it, but no Owl could be found, and, reluctantly, we gave it up 

 for lost. Once or twice it was seen in the neighboring woods by 

 different people, and once on the roof of a barn, but was wild, and 

 refused to be caught. It had been absent about a week, when, one 

 morning, I was told that my Owl was out in the yard. I hastened 

 out, and found a half-grown Newfoundland dog playing with my 

 pet. The Owl was clinging to his shaggy fur with its claws, snap- 

 ping its beak, and biting fiercely. I immediately rescued poor 

 Scops, and carried it into the house. On arriving in its old quar- 

 ters it seemed pleased, chuckling to itself after its manner. It was 

 almost starved, and ate two full-grown Bluebirds at the first meal. 

 After this time I gave it the privilege of going and coming when 

 it pleased ; but, mindful of its former experience, it never has but 

 once remained away more than two days at a time. It now became 

 more attached to me than ever, and will, at this time, permit me 

 to pat it gently. 



"When a bird is given it for food, it takes it in its claws, and, 

 with its beak, it invariably pulls out the wing and tail feathers first, 

 then eats the head, then devours the intestines ; then, if not satisfied, 

 it eats the remainder of the bird, feathers and all. That this Owl 

 sees tolerably well in the daytime I have proved to my satis- 

 faction. I caught a mouse and put it alive into an open box about 

 two feet square ; this I placed upon a bench near Scops, who was 

 attentively watching my movements. The moment it saw the mouse, 

 the owl opened its eyes wide, bent forward, moved its head from 

 side to side, then came down with an unerring aim, burying its 

 talons deep in the head and back of the mouse. Looking up into 

 my face, and uttering its rattling noise, as if inquiring, « Is n't that 

 well done?' it flew up to its perch, with its struggling prey grasped 

 firmly in its talons, when it killed the mouse, by biting it in the 

 head and back. During the whole act it displayed considerable 

 energy and excitement. In sleeping, it usually stands on one foot, 

 both eyes shut; but sometimes stretches out at full length, resting 

 on its breast. When sound asleep, it awakes instantly on its name 

 being pronounced, and will answer as quickly as when awake. I 

 have heard it utter its peculiar quavering note on one or two oc- 

 casions, which, notwithstanding its reputed mournfulness, has 

 much that sounds pleasant to my ear. When out at night among 

 the trees, Scops acts in much the same manner as when in the 

 house — hopping from limb to limb, looking about with a quick, 

 graceful motion of the head, sometimes turning the head around 

 so that the face comes directly behind. The alarm note is a kind 

 of a low moan ; this was often uttered at the sight of a gray squir- 

 rel, and always at the sight of its old enemy, the dog. 



"While flying, Scops moves through the air with a quick, steady 

 motion, alighting on any object without missing a foothold. I 

 never heard it utter a note when thus moving. When perching, 

 it does not grasp with its claws, but holds them at some distance 

 from the wood, clasping with the soles of the toes. When it has 

 eaten enough of a bird, it hides the remaining portions in any con- 

 venient place near by. If its hiding-place is then approached, the 

 owl from its perch watches the intruder jealously, and when its 



hidden spoils are touched, it lays back its ear-like tufts, snaps its 

 beak once or twice, and drops down on the unlucky hand like an 

 arrow, striking it with its sharp claws until the hand is withdrawn ; 

 then, ascertaining that its treasure is safe, Scops resumes its perch, 

 looking at its late disturber with most unfriendly eyes. * I once 

 placed a stuffed Owl of its own species near it, when it ruffled its 

 feathers, gave a series of hisses, moans, and snappings of the 

 beak, and stretched out one wing at full length in front of its head, 

 as a shield to repulse what it took to be a stranger invading its own 

 domains. As the stuffed bird was pushed nearer, Scops budged 

 not an inch, but looked fiercer than ever; its ruffled back feathers 

 were erected high, its eyes sparkled, and its whole attitude was one 

 of war. 



In the work, ' The Birds of New England,' are given two 

 instances of this bird's first plumage being in the red ; but my 

 bird is decidedly in the gray. If it is red at all, it must be at some 

 time hereafter." 



Mottled Owl, Screech Owl, op Red Owl. {Scops asio.) 



Fig. 2. 



This is one of our small and beautiful species. It is abundant 

 in most all parts of North America. The food consists of mice, 

 small birds, beetles, crickets, and insects generally. The nest is 

 found built in the hollow of old trees, about the last of May or 

 early in June, and is lined with hay, grass, and feathers. The 

 eggs are usually about five, and are nearly round, and white in 

 color. 



Nuttall says: "During the day they either retire into hollow 

 trees and unfrequented barns, or hide in the thickest evergreens. 

 At times they are abroad by day, and in cloudy weather they 

 wake up from their diurnal slumbers a considerable time before 

 dark. In the day they are always drowsy, or, as if dozing, 

 closing, or scarcely half opening their heavy eyes, presenting the 

 very picture of sloth and nightly dissipation. When perceived by 

 the smaller birds, they are at once recognized as their insidious 

 enemies ; and the rareness of their appearance before the usual 

 roosting-time of other birds, augments the suspicion they entertain 

 of their feline hunters. . . . Their notes are most frequent in 

 the latter end of summer and autumn, crying in a sort of wailing 

 quiver, not very unlike the whining of a puppy dog, ho, ho, ho, 

 ho, ho, ho, proceeding from high and clear to a low guttural 

 shake or trill. These notes, at little intervals, are answered by 

 some companion, and appear to be chiefly a call of recognition 

 from young of the same brood, or pairs who wish to discover each 

 other after having been separated while dozing in the day. On 

 moonlight evenings this slender wailing is kept up nearly until 

 midnight." This species is from eight to ten inches long. 



Red-shouldered Hawk op Buzzard. (Buteo Uneatus.) 



Fig. 3- 



This handsome species is represented in its adult plumage. 

 Prof. Verrill, in comparing Maine and Florida species, finds that 

 those of southern birth are considerably smaller than the average. 

 It is very abundant in the Atlantic States. 



According to Nuttall, " In the Southern States, during winter, 

 they are very common in swampy situations, where their quailing 

 cry of mutual recognition may be heard from the depths of the 

 dark forest almost every morning of the season. This plaintive 

 echoing note resembles somewhat the garrulous complaint of the 

 Jay, kee-oo, kee-oo, kee-oo, continued with but little intermission 

 sometimes for near twenty minutes ; at length it becomes loud and 

 impatient, but on being distantly answered by the mate, the sound 

 softens and becomes plaintive, like kee-oo. This morning call is 

 uttered most loudly and incessantly by the male, inquiring for his 



