THE BARN OWL. 



9 



" Crying, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, 

 Hoo, hoo, hoo, my feet are cold ! 

 Pity me, for here you see me. 

 Persecuted, poor, and old." 



I beg the reader s pardon for this exordium. I 

 have introduced it, in order to show how little 

 chance there has been, from days long passed and 

 gone to the present time, of studying the haunts 

 and economy of the owl, because its unmerited bad 

 name has created it a host of foes, and doomed 

 it to destruction from all quarters. Some few, 

 certainly, from time to time, have been kept in 

 cages and in aviaries. But nature rarely thrives in 

 captivity, and very seldom appears in her true 

 character when she is encumbered with chains, or 

 is to be looked at by the passing crowd through 

 bars of iron. However, the scene is now going to 

 change; and I trust that the reader will contem- 

 plate the owl with more friendly feelings, and quite 

 under different circumstances. Here, no rude 

 schoolboy ever approaches its retreat ; and those 

 who once dreaded its diabolical doings are now 

 fully satisfied that it no longer meddles with their 

 destinies, or has any thing to do with the repose of 

 their departed friends. Indeed, human wretches, 

 in the shape of body-snatchers, seem here in Eng- 

 land to have usurped the office of the owl in our 

 churchyards ; " et vendunt tumulis corpora rapta 

 suis." 



Up to the year 1813, the barn owl had a sad 

 time of it at Walton Hall. Its supposed mournful 



