220 
AN EVENING REVELLER 
In the close, quiet Cedars of the suburban woods the 
Screech-owl finds a comfortable home throughout the 
winter* He is impervious to the vagaries of the 
weather, for, like most members of the owl family, 
he does not dissipate in foreign travel or otherwise 
attempt to elude the changing seasons* All day he 
perches silently in the deep shade of the Evergreens, 
closing his eyes against the light that struggles 
persistently through, poised as a sentinel, with ears 
erect and seemingly alert to all the passing activities 
of the winter woods* But that is merely an uncon- 
scious pretence, for the little sentinel, no bigger than 
a Robin, is almost as oblivious to his surroundings 
as the dull grey limb he so closely resembles* Vagrant 
Dogs may rush through the snow and sniff at the 
hidden trails of the Field Mice, and he will scarcely 
incline his head toward the noisy commotion. The 
hunted Cotton-tail, leaping over the snow to his 
burrow, with wild -eyed memory of the Ferrets 
underground and the Dogs and guns awaiting his 
escape, passes and leaves his quadruple track un- 
noticed* Chickadees swing under adjacent twigs 
and feast on the clinging insects in the crevices of 
