account of its nesting habits : ''I once 

 took pains to dig out a nest of the Bur- 

 rowing Owl, I found the burrow was 

 about four feet long and the nest was 

 only about two feet from the surface of 

 the ground. The nest was made in a cav- 

 ity of the ground, of about a foot in diam- 

 eter, well filled with dry, soft horse-dung, 

 bits of an old blanket and the fur of a 

 coyote that I had killed a few days be- 

 fore. One of the parent birds was on 

 the nest, and I captured it. It had no in- 

 tention of leaving the nest, even when en- 

 tirely uncovered with shovel and exposed 

 to the open air. It fought bravely with 

 beak and claws. I found seven young 

 ones, perhaps eight or ten days old, well 

 covered with down, but without any 

 feathers. The whole nest, as well as 

 the birds, swarmed with fleas. It was 

 the filthiest nest I ever saw. There are 

 few birds that carry more rubbish into 

 the nest than the Burrowing Owls, and 

 even the vultures are not more filthy." 



In this nest Dr. Canfield found scraps of 

 dead animals, both of mammals, snakes 

 and insects. 



Major Bendire believes that when these 

 Owls are once mated they are paired for 

 life. He also likens their love note, 

 which is heard about sundown, to the call 

 of the English cuckoo. He says that it is 

 "a mellow, sonorous and far-reaching 

 *coo-c-oo,' the last syllables somewhat 

 drawn out, and this concert is kept up 

 for an hour or more. _ These notes are 

 only uttered when the bird is at rest, sit- 

 ting on the little hillock surrounding the 

 burrow. While flying about a chatter- 

 ing sort of note is used and when alarmed 

 a short shrill 'tzip-tzip.' When wounded 

 and enraged it utters a shrill scream and 

 snaps its mandibles rapidly together, 

 making a sort of rattling noise, throws it- 

 self on its back, ruffles its feathers and 

 strikes out vigorously with its talons, and 

 with which it can inflict quite a severe 

 wound." 



LONGING. 



I long for the wild woods and fields in the spring, 



For the hills and the streamlets once more. 

 I long for a sight of all nature, to-day, 



When the drear, frozen winter is o'er, 



And Spring comes apace, and all nature in life 



Is now quickened to action more free, 

 And the flowers are springing in valley and dell, 



And green grows the shrub and the tree. 



I long for a sight of the squirrels so gay. 



As they spring up the trees on the hill, 

 I long for a sight of the waters that flow 



And that sing as they turn the old mill. 



I long for the songs of the birds in the grove, 



As they sing, at the sweet early dawn, 

 And to feci the great heart-throbs of nature in glee — 



It is Spring now, and Winter is gone. 



— Frank Monroe Beverly. 



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