90 OUR WINTER BIRDS 



of their unwelcome attention the little Owl raised 

 his quavering voice in song; a long-drawn, high, 

 tremulous whistle, on a descending scale, sometimes 

 followed by a mellow refrain. It is far from a 

 "screech," this plaintive note; and while it can 

 scarcely be called cheerful, it harmonizes well with 

 the quiet of the evening and the spirit of the hour. 



Heard by persons to whom the little Owl is a 

 stranger and who have no sympathy with him and 

 his ways, this somewhat mournful call is considered 

 a note of ill-omen; but when we learn that in addi- 

 tion to destroying a large number of harmful grubs 

 and insects, Screech Owls are also expert mousers, 

 we realize that we may consider ourselves fortunate 

 rather than unlucky to have them make their home 

 near ours. 



About the middle of April the Screech Owl lays 

 from four to six white eggs in a hollow tree, or pos- 

 sibly in a nesting box or log we have erected for the 

 use of Flickers. The birds go about their family 

 duties so quietly that we may not know of their 

 presence near us until they "bring out" their family. 

 Then, suddenly, the place seems to be overflowing 

 with Screech Owls. They sail from tree to tree and 

 from the branches overhead look down upon us 

 after the curiously solemn manner of Owls. The 

 young Owls still wear their nestling costume of soft 



