WINTER NEIGHBORS 



one occasion to see him leave his retreat 

 and make a raid upon a shrike that was 

 impaling a shrew-mouse upon a thorn in a 

 neighboring tree, and which I was watching. 

 Failing to get the mouse, the owl returned 

 swiftly to his cavity, and ever since, while 

 going that way, I have been on the lookout 

 for him. Dozens of teams and foot-passen- 

 gers pass him late in the day, but he re- 

 gards them not, nor they him. When I 

 come along and pause to salute him, he 

 opens his eyes a little wider, and, appearing 

 to recognize me, quickly shrinks and fades 

 into the background of his door in a very 

 weird and curious manner. When he is not 

 at his outlook, or when he is, it requires the 

 best powers of the eye to decide the point, 

 as the empty cavity itself is almost an exact 

 image of him. If the whole thing had been 

 carefully studied, it could not have answered 

 its purpose better. The owl stands quite 

 perpendicular, presenting a front of light 

 mottled gray ; the eyes are closed to a mere 

 slit, the ear-feathers depressed, the beak 

 buried in the plumage, and the whole atti- 

 tude is one of silent, motionless waiting and 

 observation. If a mouse should be seen 

 crossing the highway, or scudding over any 

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