A Columbus Mid-winter Horizon. 19 



him." The tree was of considerable girth and almost bare 

 of limbs. I tried to keep an eye on the hole, but somehow, 

 when I got there, panting fiercely, the hole contained "noth- 

 ing but leaves." Sir Owl had flitted, chuckling noiselessly 

 in his silken sleeve. 



The wood yielded in all, to a cursory examination, six- 

 teen species of birds — and half the time it snowed. A 

 twenty-acre beech woods beyond was still more hastily 

 examined. It yielded additional Towhees, a troop of Car- 

 dinals, and a swarm of Juncoes. 



The hawks, which were several times sighted, were be- 

 lieved to be Red-tails. Both were in winter plumage, and 

 diagnostic tests were hard to apply. One bird, seen at a 

 considerable distance, showed irregular blotches below on a 

 white ground. He was especially marked by a brilliant 

 white rump, and that in a light which made the color of the 

 tail itself uncertain. The other bird was uniformly light 

 below, save for black-tipped primaries and a dusky tail. 



The grackle was discovered in a bush clump of an open, 

 wind-swept wood lot. He kept well to himself and seemed 

 to be a little logy, though apparently sound of wing and 

 limb. 



A wisp of Horned Larks, passing over, was quite likely 

 to have contained, or to have been, Prairie Horned; but I 

 count only the more probable species in a record hunt. 



The commonest bird in all Ohio during the winter months, 

 Tree Sparrow, was the last to show up. When I had my 

 old high water mark of twenty-two species in my note book, 

 I searched high and low for the missing bird. At last he 

 quavered hospitably from the densities of a weed thicket, 

 but I declined his invitation to tarry. Twenty-three species 

 in one day breaks my winter record. Let us hear from the 

 next man. 



The horizon for the four hour trip follows: 



Red-tailed Hawk, 2. Downy Woodpecker. 



Screech Owl. Red-headed Woodpecker. 



Hairy Woodpecker. Red-bellied Woodpecker. 



