14 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 
self-existent cause of all, to whom our reverential awe 
is then humbly devoted, and not to any of his dependent 
creatures. With all the gloomy habits, and ungracious 
tones, of the Owl, there is nothing in this bird supernatu- 
ral or mysterious, or more than that of a simple bird of 
prey, formed for feeding by night, like many other ani- 
mals, and of reposing by day. The harshness of its voice, 
occasioned by the width and capacity of its throat, may be 
intended by heaven as an alarm and warning to the birds 
and animals on which it preys, to secure themselves from 
danger. The voices of all carnivorous birds and animals 
are also observed to be harsh and hideous, probably for 
this very purpose. 
‘The Great Horned-Owl is not migratory, but remains 
with us the whole year. During the day he slumbers in 
the thick evergreens of deep swamps, or seeks shelter in 
large hollow trees. He is very rarely seen abroad by 
day, and never but when disturbed.* In the month of 
May they usually begin to build. The nest is generally 
placed in the fork of a tall tree, and is constructed of 
sticks, piled in considerable quantities, lined with dry 
leaves, and a few feathers. Sometimes they choose a 
hollow tree, and in that case carry in but few materials. 
The female lays four eggs, nearly as large as those of a 
hen, almost globular, and of a pure white. In one of 
these nests, after the young had flown, were found the 
heads and bones of two chickens, the legs and head of 
the Golden-winged Woodpecker, and part of the wings 
and feathers of several other birds. It is generally con- 
jectured that they hatch but once in the season. 
“The length of the male of this species is twenty 
inches; the bill is large, black and strong, covered at the 
base with a cere; the eyes golden yellow; the horns are 
three inches in length, and very broad, consisting of 
twelve or fourteen feathers, their webs black, broadly 
edged with bright tawny; face rusty, bounded on each 
side by a band of black; space between the eyes and bill 
whitish; whole lower parts elegantly marked with numer- 
ous transverse bars of dusky, on a bright tawny ground, 
thinly interspersed with white; vent pale yellow ochre, 
barred with narrow lines of brown; legs and feet large and 
eovered with feathers, or hairy down, of a pale brown 
colour; claws very large, blue black; tail rounded, extend- 
ing about an inch beyond the tips of the wings, crossed 
with six or seven narrow bars of brown, and variegated 
or marbled with brown and tawny; whole upper parts 
finely pencilled with dusky, on a tawny and whitish 
* One day last summer, about noon, I discovered one of these Owls 
feeding on a rabbit, which it had just caught, in a very retired wood 
in the lower part of New-Jersey; from which circumstance I sup- 
posed they frequently seize their prey in the day time.—Ep. 
ground; chin pure white, under that a band of brown, 
succeeded by another narrow one of white; eyes very 
large. 
‘‘The female is full two feet in length, and has not the 
white on the throat so pure. She has also less of the bright 
ferruginous or tawny tint below; but is principally dis- 
tinguished by her superior magnitude.” 
‘¢Tt is during the placid serenity of a beautiful summer 
night,’ says Mr. Aupuson, ‘‘when the current of the 
waters moves silently along, reflecting from its smooth 
surface the silver radiance of the moon, and when all else 
of animated nature seems sunk in repose, that the Great 
Horned-Owl, one of the Nimrods of the feathered tribes of 
our forests, may be seen sailing along silently, yet rapidly, 
intent on the destruction of the objects destined to form his 
food. The lone steersman of the descending boat observes 
the nocturnal hunter, gliding on extended pinions across 
the river, sailing over one hill and then another, or sud- 
denly sweeping downwards, and again rising in the air 
like a moving shadow, now distinctly seen, and again 
mingling with the sombre shades of the surrounding 
woods, fading into obscurity. The bark has now floated 
to some distance, and is opposite the newly cleared 
patch of ground the result of a squatter’s first attempt at 
cultivation, in a place lately shaded by the trees of the 
forest. The moon shines brightly on his hut, his slight 
fence, the newly planted orchard, and a tree, which, spared 
by the axe, serves as a roosting-place for the scanty stock 
of poultry which the new comer has procured from some 
liberal neighbour. Amongst them rests a Turkey-hen, 
covering her offspring with extended wings. The Great 
Owl, with eyes keen as those of any falcon, is now seen 
hovering above the place. He has already espied the 
quarry, and is sailing in wide circles, meditating his plan 
of attack. The Turkey-hen, which at another time might 
be sound asleep, is now, however, so intent on the care of 
her young brood, that she rises on her legs, and purs so 
loudly, as she opens her wings and spreads her tail, that 
she rouses her neighbours, the hens, together with their 
protector. The cacklings which they at first emit, soon 
become a general clamour. The squatter hears the uproar, 
and is on his feet in an instant, rifle in hand; the priming 
examined, he gently pushes open his half closed door, and 
peeps out cautiously, to ascertain the cause by which his 
repose has been disturbed. He observes the murderous 
Owl just alighting on the dead branch of a tall tree, when, 
raising his never-failing rifle, he takes aim, touches the 
trigger, and the next instant sees the foe falling dead to 
the ground. The bird is unworthy of farther attention, 
and is left a prey to some prowling opossum, or other car- 
niyorous quadruped. ”’ 
