22 The Food of the Owls. ' 
It is said that if an owl once gets a taste of fish he is a fisherman 
«ver afterwards, and of this fact I have seen many demonstrations. 
At Thompson's Lake, on the Illinois River, I have several times 
in the dusk of the evening seen the Barred Owl feasting on discarded 
fish. The shutting down of the water gates of the mill often leaves 
many small fish stranded on the gravel bed of the river, just below 
my house, and I have many times witnessed a pair of Great-horneds 
fly down from the trees on the opposite bank to feast upon them. 
During the summer months small fish formed the staple diet of 
my pair of pets, and a pound of shiners three times a day was about 
the amount they required. 
Their manner of feeding is very different. When a canful of 
minnows is poured out to them the Bubo will jjimp into their midst, 
and, as my boy sometimes remarks, *' Just hog them down," two at 
a time. 
The Syrnium will pick out a particularly lively minnow, eye it 
for a moment, then spring upon it and grasp it in the talons of 
one foot, and after holding it for a few seconds quickly transfer it 
to his beak, after which he will gaze about defiantly for a short time 
and then swallow it. 
This bird has developed a great hatred for the boys, probably as a 
result of their disposition to guy him whenever an opportunity offers. 
This dislike has lately taken shape by his makinsr a dive at every 
boy that enters his house, raking the top of his head with his claws 
as he passes over him, and then giving vent to his peculiar, laughing 
cry of '' Who ! hoo ! hoo are you ! " This trick he has played so often 
on the "gamins," that, at present, not one of them can be induced 
to enter his apartments. 
Some days ago a venturesome lad laid his eye up to a knot-hole in 
the side of the owl-house to take a peep at them. His lusty screams 
quickly brought me from my oflBce to his side. The blood was run- 
ning freely'down his cheek. The aim of the Syrnium had been unerr- 
ing. From his perch on the opposite side of the building he had 
made a dive for the eye, and running one foot through the hole 
had lacerated the skin badly, but luckily not injuring the eye. 
Sometimes I put a live rabbit in the owl-house, and then there is 
fun to see the Bubo getting up courage to attack it. No bully ever 
gave better evidence of a mixture of cowardice and bravado. He 
will bow and sway his body to and fro, run along his perch and back 
again, look to me for encouragement, then bow, look at the rabbit 
and bow, all the while uttering his shrill scream, which becomes 
