BIRD PARADISE 193 



cold. Still, if my knowledge were to decide the 

 question, I can readily understand that the whole 

 scheme might read "failure, from first to last." 



Occasionally during the winter I hear the call 

 of the owls from out of the darkness — weird 

 speech of the night. If there be any bird of our 

 many species whose language appears to be en- 

 tirely appropriate to the occasion then it seems 

 to me the owl is that bird. He has no concep- 

 tion, I am sure, of anything that could be called 

 a song. The most attractive sound he makes is 

 a little more than a gruff outburst of mufled syl- 

 lables that are most honored by being forgotten 

 as soon as possible. If the owl knows about his 

 place among the creatures, knows how he has 

 lived and is living, then one would suppose that 

 his vision would be heavily freighted with dis- 

 couragement. I cannot see in all the years I 

 have known him that he has made a single par- 

 ticle of improvement in any direction. His walk 

 and talk, his living by night and by day, his en- 

 tire endeavor in being an owl all seem to be ex- 

 actly the same they were sixty years ago. It 

 would seem that threescore years ought to show 

 some improvement if any had been made. Be 



