THE SOUTHERN PLANTER. 



335 



large head, round, full and glaring eyes, 

 set wide apart, and partially encircled by 

 a disk of white feathers, adding a peculiar 

 and significant expression to his face. His 

 hooked bill turns downwards, so as to re- 

 semble the nose in a human face, the gen- 

 eral flatness of his features, and his up- 

 right position, yield him a singularly grave 

 and intelligent look ; and it is undoubtedly 

 on account of these appearances, that he 

 was selected by the ancients as the emblem 

 of wisdom, and was consecrated to Minerva. 



After his nocturnal foragings, he rests 

 quietly during the day in some secluded 

 retreat, where he is not likely to be inter- 

 rupted. His fear of disturbance and his 

 wish to escape the intrusion of other birds 

 has accustomed him to make his abode in 

 desolate and ruined buildings, and with 

 these solitary haunts his image is strongly 

 associated. In such places he resides du- 

 ring the day, and there in company with 

 his mate he builds his nest and rears his 

 young. In thinly settled countries he se- 

 lects the hollows of old trees and the clefts 

 of rocks for his nest and his retreat. All 

 the small species of the owl, however, 

 seem to multiply with the increase of hu- 

 man population, living upon the rats and 

 mice that accumulate in old barns and gra- 

 naries. The habit of seeing the owl in 

 these desolate haunts which are supposed 

 to be the abode of wicked spirits, has 

 caused many superstitions to be attached 

 to his image. His voice is supposed to 

 bode misfortune, and his spectral visits are 

 regarded as the forewarnings of death. 



The owl is remarkable for the acuteness 

 of his hearing, which enables him to dis- 

 tinguish the slightest sounds ; and the plu- 

 mage of his wings is extremely soft, caus- 

 ing him to fly with so little noise as to be 

 scarcely perceptible. Hence, while he is 

 silent in his own motion, he can perceive 

 the least motion or sound from any other 

 object, and is able to overtake his prey by 

 coming upon it silently in the darkness. 

 The stillness of his flight is one of the cir- 

 cumstances that adds mystery to his char- 

 acter, and has undoubtedly contributed to 

 render him an object of superstitious 

 dread. 



When the owl is forced from his retreat 

 in the daytime he is singularly defence- 

 less, and is at the mercy of his enemies, 

 who seem to be aware of his helpless con- 

 dition. On such occasions many of the] 



smaller birds assail him and annoy him in 

 various ways, while his puiblindness pre- 

 vents him from defending himself. This 

 is no more than just retaliation upon an 

 enemy who selects the hour when other 

 birds are sleeping, to attack and devour 

 them. It is probable that while sitting 

 upon the branch of a tree or on a fence, 

 after having been driven from his hiding 

 place, he has formed a subject for paint- 

 ers, who have always delighted to intro- 

 duce him into their pictures, to add ex- 

 pression to a desolate scene — an old de- 

 serted house, a ruined tower or an ancient 

 belfry. Hence the owl deserves in a spe- 

 cial manner to be named among those ani- 

 mals which are called picturesque. 



I will not enter into a speculation con- 

 cerning the origin of those agreeable emo- 

 tions which are so often produced by the 

 sight of objects that are suggestive of ru- 

 in or desolation. Nature has beneficially 

 provided that many an object which is ca- 

 pable of communicating no direct pleasure 

 to our senses, shall send joy to the heart 

 through the medium of sentiment. The 

 figure of the owl is closely allied with the 

 sentiment of ruins, and to this feeling of 

 the human soul we may trace the pleasure 

 we derive from the picture of this bird in 

 his appropriate scenery. Two doves upon 

 the ragged branch of a tree in a wild and 

 beautiful sylvan retreat, are not more sug- 

 gestive of pleasing fancies to the mind, 

 than an owl sitting upon an old gate-post 

 near a deserted house. 



I have often listened with peculiar plea- 

 sure to the distant sounds of the wings of 

 night birds, on a summer evening in the 

 country, while they are flying over short 

 distances in the woods. There is a mys- 

 terious feeling excited b}^ these sounds, 

 that seems to heighten the pleasure derived 

 from the delightful influences of the sea- 

 son. But these emotions are nothing in 

 intensity to the scarcely perceptible sound 

 attending the flight of the owl, as he glides 

 by in the dusk of the evening, or in the 

 dim light of a summer moon. Similar in 

 its influence is the dismal voice of this 

 bird, which is heard most, frequently du- 

 ring the latter part of summer and in the 

 autumn, when the young ones are out, and 

 use these cries for purposes of mutual sal- 

 utation and recognition. 



These notes in the species which is the 

 subject of my remarks, are singularly wild 



