190 Ldle Days in Patagonia. 
of a puma or wild cat, blazing with wrath, are 
wonderful to see; sometimes the sight of them 
affects one like an electric shock; but for intense 
brilliance and quick changes, the dark orbs kindling 
with the startling suddenness of a cloud illumined 
by flashes of lightning, the yellow globes of the owl 
are unparalleled. Some readers might think my 
language exaggerated. Descriptions of bright sun- 
sets and of storms with thunder and lightning 
would, no doubt, sound extravagant to one who had 
never witnessed these phenomena. Those only who 
spend years “conversing with wild animals in 
desert places,” to quote Azara’s words, know that, 
as with the atmosphere, so with animal life, there 
are special moments ; and that a creature present- 
ing a very sorry appearance dead in a museum, or 
living in captivity, may, when hard pressed and 
fighting for life in its own fastness, he sublimed by 
its fury into a weird and terrible object. 
Nature has many surprises for those who wait on 
her; one of the greatest she ever favoured me with 
was the sight of a wounded Magellanic eagle-owl 
I shot in Patagonia. The haunt ofthis bird was an 
island in the river, overgrown with giant grasses 
and tall willows, leafless now, for it was in the 
middle of winter. Here I sought for and found 
him waiting on his perch for the sun to set. He 
eyed me so calmly when I aimed my gun, I scarcely 
had the heart to pull the trigger. He had reigned 
there so long, the feudal tyrant of that remote 
wilderness! Many a water-rat, stealing like a 
