252 
OUR HOME BIRDS. 
of morning, and amused me with his singular ex- 
clamations, sometimes sweeping down and around 
my fire, uttering a loud and sudden waugh- o ! 
waugh-o ! sufficient to have alarmed a whole gar- 
rison. He has other nocturnal solos no less melodi- 
ous, one of which very strikingly resembles the half- 
suppressed screams of a person suffocating or throt- 
tled, and cannot fail of being exceedingly entertain- 
ing to a lonely, benighted traveller in the midst of 
an Indian wilderness.’ 
“ The noise they make must be very dismal. I do 
not wonder that men are scared by it. This book 
says : ‘Far away in the deep forests the traveller has 
sometimes paused to rest and to cook his supper gipsy- 
fashion on a stick and by a fire lighted of dry leaves 
and twigs. 
“ ‘ The fire burns brightly, and throws a ruddy light 
on the trees around. He and his companions are 
glad to stretch and to partake of the repast. No 
sound is heard of bird or animal, and scarcely a leaf 
stirs. But all at once, close to their ears, there breaks 
out a succession of unearthly shrieks, mixed with wild 
laughter. It is as if some person were strangled in 
their very presence. 
“ ‘ Perhaps a minute after a large dark object sweeps 
round the fire, still uttering discordant sounds. He 
is the great horned owl that was sitting close by, 
