XATURAL HISTORY XOTES 
55 
A scene like this brings home to one better than anything else, in our bleak 
North Oxfordshire, the fact that despite morning frosts, cold winds, black storms 
and sprinkles of snow, we are really within touch of spring. Though so 
changeable is the weather that scarce know 
“ The Plover when to scatter o’er the heath 
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste,” 
(Thomson.) 
yet spring is here. The sweet breeding cries, poolie poolie teee weeep, are instinct 
with the spirit of early spring, and speak as eloquently to our ears as will 
Cuckoo’s note and the Swifts’ scream of a later stage in their joyous season. 
Bloxham, Oxon, O. V. Aplin, F.L.S. 
600. The Little Auk. — It may be of interest to your ornithological 
readers to hear that on January lo last a labourer named Taylor, living on Mr. 
Sinclair’s farm, Flexford, Wanboro’, .Surrey, discovered a small web-footed bird 
taking shelter underneath a coat which he had laid on the ground. He took it 
to a friend of mine living at Flexford, who recognised it as a Little .-\uk, having 
seen and identified a specimen which had been captured in the same neighbour- 
hood thirteen years previously. My friend tried to feed the bird with fish, but 
it died in five days, and is being stuffed by Mr. Braddon, of Guildford. It is 
a female. I observe from my Yarrell that the Little Auk, Aka alle, or Mergulus 
melanoleucos, is an Arctic bird, not breeding in the British Islands, but is a 
winter visitor to the northern parts of them, and it is not unusual for stray 
specimens to be found in the southern counties in very severe weather, such as 
occurred at the time when the Flexford capture took place. 
I have a note that on January 8 we had a heavy fall of snow, and on the 9th 
a strong wind from the north-west, and that there were from 19° to 20° of frost 
on the night of the loth. M. J. T. 
601. Luminous Owls. — Much interesting correspondence has taken place 
on this subject. The luminosity of the feathers of the barn owl is supposed to 
arise from phosphorescence or from electricity. When emaciated or dying these 
luminous conditions are said to be increased. 
The body of the barn owl is of a beautiful ‘‘ yellowy buff ” colour, which does 
not readily reflect the rays of light, and renders it almost invisible at night. The 
feathers of “ the chin, throat, and breast are of a pure .silky white.” If a ray 
of light falls on such a surface as this, the result is that the light is reflected from 
it as if it were a mirror. This sheen is simply reflection, and not of phos- 
phorescent or electric origin. 
One evening when driving home I noticed an owl, dimly discernible in the 
darkness, flying the other side of the hedge at the side of the road, and keepino- 
pace with the carriage. After going about fifty yards, the bird turned and faced 
me. There was a flash of light, as if some ghost had suddenly appeared from 
the darkness. My friend was startled, and my mare tried to bolt. The lights 
from the lamps had been reflected from the “ pure silky white” feathers of the 
owl’s breast, so as to cause the sudden apparition, which instantly disappeared in 
the darkness as the bird turned away. Cases like this have come to my notice 
many times. Even a faint glint of rays of light from the horizon is sufficient to 
cause similar effects, though perhaps in a less startling manner. 
It is said that luminrrsity, whether phosphorescent, electric, or otherwise, 
is of service to ihe owl in securing its prey. This is difficult to understand, for 
it is probable that it would have much the same effect on its prey that it had on 
my horse, which was fright and an attempt to run away. 
When hunling, barn owls do not seize their prey with the bill, nor does the 
“ breast of pure -ilky white ” come into play. On seeing a mouse the owl stops 
in its flight, suddenly drops upon it and seizes it in its talons wiih outstretched 
legs. The white owl in a barn “ sleeps with one eye and one ear open. There 
is a slight movement invisible to human eye, a slight rustle inaudible to human 
ear, in the siraw below. In a moment he is all eye, all ear. The tucked-up leg 
joins the other, the head is bent forward and downward, the dark bright eyes 
gaze with an almost painful intensity on the spot from which the rustle comes. 
The mouse or rat shows itself in a moment again. Without one movement 
