102 PEARLS AND PEBBLES. 



It is rarely now that I catch a passing glimpse of the 

 lovely plumed crossbill, or the scarlet tanager; seldom do 

 I hear the cry of the bobolink, or watch the sailing of 

 the bald-headed eagle or the fish-hawk over the lake, as 

 I did formerly in fear for the safety of my little goslings. 

 Even the gay, cheerful note of the chickadee is rarely 

 heard, or the sonorous rapping of the red-headed wood- 

 pecker, or the plaintive, oft-repeated monosyllable of the 

 wood phcebe. 



I think these birds dislike the appearance of the red 

 brick houses of the modern villages and towns, with 

 their green blinds and fancy work in wood and paint. 

 Perhaps they look upon them as possible traps to cage 

 them, and find the old familiar rude shanty or log-house 

 more to their taste in architecture. 



Here* is one of my old notes made in that long ago 

 time on the great cat-owl : 



A very solemn, formidable-looking bird is this big 

 long-eared owl. One was shot and brought into the 

 house for my inspection. It was still living, having 

 only been winged, and evidently was very angry with 

 its captor, ready to avenge itself by a blow with its 

 strong hooked beak and sharp talons. The glassy round 

 eyes were glaring ominously from beneath the swathe 

 of thick rich brown mottled feathers that half shaded 

 them from the light. The ears, or the tuft of feathers 

 that concealed them, stood up, giving a warrior-like 

 aspect to the grand, proud bird. 



