Snowy Visitors. I 7 1 



what was he doing there ? Till then I had supposed 

 that the owl always takes his game from the wing. 

 Farther along the beach was a sand bluff overlooking 

 the proceedings. I gained it after a careful stalk, 

 crept to the edge, and looked over. Down in the blind 

 a big snowy owl was digging away like a Trojan, tear- 

 ing out sand and seaweed with his great claws, first 

 one foot, then the other, like a hungry hen, and send- 

 ing it up in showers behind him over the old mast. 

 Every few moments he would stop suddenly, bristle 

 up all his feathers till he looked comically big and 

 fierce, take a look out over the log and along the 

 beach, then fall to digging again furiously. 



I suppose that the object of this bristling up before 

 each observation was to strike terror into the heart of 

 any enemy that might be approaching to surprise him 

 at his unusual work. It is an owl trick. Wounded 

 birds always use it when approached. 



And the object of the digging } That was perfectly 

 evident. A beach rat had jumped down into the blind, 

 after some fragments of lunch, undoubtedly, and being 

 unable to climb out, had started to tunnel up to the 

 surface. The owl heard him at work, and started a 

 stern chase. He won, too, for right in the midst of a 

 fury of seaweed he shot up with the rat in his claws 

 — so suddenly that he almost escaped me. Had it 

 not been for the storm and his underground digging. 



