BIRD PARADISE 213 



coverts of the swamp. This smallest of the owl 

 family is about the only representative of the race 

 that we now have in our hill country. In my 

 boyhood there were five or six different species. 

 The cutting away of the forests, especially the 

 large hollow trees, has effectually removed their 

 lurking places so that most of them have jour- 

 neyed to a more genial clime. I like the smaller 

 fellow for his many traits that shine with the 

 best of owl goodness. Of course he is not perfect, 

 though he stands high in the ranks of birds of 

 the night. Perhaps he does the best he can situ- 

 ated just as he is. 



The bare branches swayed in the wind, cele- 

 brating the change by strains of new music. 

 Boy-like, I put my feet down into the thick 

 carpet of leaves and went a long distance, enjoy- 

 ing the rustle that resounded through the wood. 

 Every little while I wakened some denizen of 

 the place, that seemed to wonder what particular 

 business the parson had disturbing the quiet of 

 paradise. Just at the eastern outlook, a little 

 bevy of chickadees gave greeting, and nothing 

 else in the entire stroll was quite so cheery. The 

 great hemlocks on the farther hillside bowed a 



