THE LANDING. 229 



though I was so near, it first pressed all its feathers 

 closely to its body and reached out its head, so that it 

 became long and slender, and the few dark spots of its 

 plumage aided in making it represent a portion of the 

 snow-covered tree. It was done so quickly that I was 

 fortunate in being able to watch the process. Had my 

 attention been diverted for a second, the owl would sim- 

 ply have disappeared. 



After waiting for perhaps a minute, I took hold of 

 the outer ends of the nearest bushes and shook them 

 vigorously. At once the owl spread his wings and dis- 

 appeared in a growth of blueberry -bushes, too dense, 

 indeed, for me to follow. 



I was struck, as I watched the bird's retreating form, 

 with a marvellous feature of its flight. Howsoever dense 

 the growth, the bird penetrated it without touching a 

 twig, or brushing a flake of snow from any bough. The 

 impression I then received — now nearly thirty years ago 

 — was that the flight through a forest of the snowy owl 

 was one of the most striking exhibitions of wing power 

 to be witnessed, and this impression remains. 



It is unquestionable that a small proportion of these 

 owls do not return north, when in March or April there 

 is a decided change in the temperature, such as affects 

 the movements of winter migrants generally. There is 

 no reason to believe, however, that such birds ever breed 

 here, although they have been taken in the cedar swamps 

 of southern New Jersey as late as the middle of June. 



When kept in confinement they become quite gentle, 

 except towards strangers, and give much evidence of 

 being more intelligent than our smaller native owls. 



