THE BIRD OF NIGHT 



photo apparatus up in the tree, focused it upon the 

 branch where I expected she would come, and waited. 

 For a long time she went everywhere but to the right 

 branch, but at length she alighted just where I wanted 

 her and was still for exactly the required half second. 

 Just as the shutter closed the restless head turned, but 

 photographically the owl was mine ! 



Whenever I think of those Long-eared Owls, I laugh 

 to recall the vision of a man up a tree, a savage owl 

 trying to lift his scalp, making such a tremendous wail- 

 ing and screeching that a party of dogs lifted up their 

 voices and finally came and stood, howling, too, around 

 the tree, until some men from the neighboring farm, 

 amazed at the commotion, joined in the assembly, and 

 I, to "save my face" and avert the suspicion of insanity, 

 was compelled to add my voice to the tumult in explana- 

 tion of the comedy. 



There is only one other large owl which we are very 

 likely to meet, the Short-eared Owl, a bird about the 

 size of the Long-eared, but without noticeable ear- 

 tufts. It generally nests further north, but in autumn 

 we are likely to flush it from the ground as we tramp 

 over marshes and meadows, or sometimes moist, bushy 

 pastures. Because it likes such places it is often called 

 the Marsh Owl. I have found their nests in the grass 

 out on the wild prairies of the Northwest. 



In the Middle States and in the South one may find 

 the singular looking monkey-faced Barn Owl, which 

 hides itself away by daytime in hollow trees or old 



