A HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPE. 7 



his back, looks in upon the sedate and serious bird. Then, apparently not pleased 

 with his reception, straightens himself along the tree, and expressing his displeasure 

 by quick, sudden jerks of his feathery tail, proceeds to scold the Owl, with sharp, 

 shrill notes, that roll along the air sounding like some tiny watchman's rattle. In a 

 very short time, disgusted at not being able to pi'oduce any visible impression upon 

 his stolid neighbour, with many a graceful jump he bounds away to seek a more 

 congenial friend. 



The great Horned Owl of America, which is represented in Europe by the 

 Eagle Owl or Grand Duke, is in the habit of attacking the Turkeys at night after 

 they have gone to roost. The assault is very cleverly avoided in the following 

 manner. Although the Owl's approach is almost noiseless, still the Turkey is 

 rarely taken unawares, and no sooner is the bird of night perceived than, uttering 

 a warning note to his companions, the individual selected by the Owl for his prey 

 drops his head, spreads his tail and throws it forward over his back. Thus the 

 Owl in his swoop meets with nothing to grasp, save a tail-feather or two, and is 

 foiled in his attempt. As soon as the Owl has passed, the Turkeys drop to the 

 ground, and seek other lodgings for the remainder of the night. 



Owls do not usually stray any great distance from the place in which they 

 were born, provided they are able to obtain a sufficiency of food ; nor do they suffer 

 from the severity of the winter, the thick coat of feathers with which they are clothed 

 being an ample protection from the' storms and piercing blasts of that season. 

 Although so quiet and dull during the day, they are in reality very active birds ; and 

 no sooner do the shades of night commence to fall, than they begin to bestir them- 

 selves for the evening's flight. Their wings, composed of the softest downy feathers 

 imaginable, bear them along without a sound, and they pass before the eye, before 

 vanishing again into the surrounding gloom, like phantom sprites that reveal their 

 curious shape for but a single moment. Sharp-eyed too is the owl, and those 

 great organs of sight, that gaze with a half-blinded stare unable to bear the sun- 

 light, are bright and sparkling in the night-time, piercing the darkness, and making 

 clear every object. Nothing, at such a time, escapes the view of the monkish-bird, 

 as he roams alone through the moonlit aisles of the leafy woods, uttering at intervals 

 his discordant cry, that echoes like some horrible, mocking laugh through the silent 

 glade. At times he leaves his leafy haunts and sails over the open plain, followed 

 by his dark shadows that mimic his every movement. With the fox he disputes 



