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THE WILSON BULLETIN— September, 1922 
of the head and body plays as well. When the Screech Owl 
“ freezes,” to use the word of some authors, no change, appar- 
ently, takes place in the eye proper, but the lids are arranged 
in a manner used at no other time, giving the individual an 
unspeakably droll expression. The effect of wooden rigidity 
rather than downy softness is gained by a close compression 
of all the feathers, and the ear-tufts are raised conspicuously, 
though curiously enough, at such incongruous angles that sym- 
metry is usually lost. Often, at such times, the mandibles may 
be parted, an addition to the effect of total loss of inherent 
owlish characteristics. It is possibly not so well known that 
the Long-eared Owl resorts to the same trick at times, and even, 
seem if ever so strange, the Great Horned Owl — a bird whose 
bold nature and great strength would seem a sufficient pro- 
tection, without its resorting to so cowardly an implement as 
the mere imitation of a stick. The writer once had the immense 
satisfaction of actually overlooking one of his pet Horned Owls, 
which, perched on a barrel near a large pile of gunny-sacks, be- 
came so much a part of his surroundings that some time was 
spent in searching in the darkest and least accessible parts of 
the barn. When, suddenly, as it became evident that a cer- 
tain supposed sack was actually the Owl, assuming the ludi- 
crous aspect of his small relative, the Screech Owl, it provoked 
a hearty laugh. In every respect was this great “ Tiger among 
birds ” “ frozen,” even as the little Screech Owl. The outlines 
of the eyelids were almost exactly the same, and even in such 
respects as the parting of the mandibles was the simulation 
complete. In the face of this Owl, as he was for the first time 
discovered, there appeared an indiseribably humorous expres- 
sion, as if the clever bird realized perfectly well just what was 
going on in the mind of the observer! 
Anyone who has had Owls as captives will remember the 
great changes which come over the expression of an Owl’s face 
when he suddenly realizes that he is no longer a captive, but 
free. The eyes usually open wider, and the head feathers com- 
press, as with bobbing movement or sudden turning of the head, 
he peers about for a possible place of refuge. The expression, 
evident in most wild birds, is the most glorious the individual 
ever assumes. Even in a much worn and bedraggled individual 
an unmistakable trimness becomes evident, when he realizes 
that freedom is again his own. 
The painter of birds must realize that for each species of 
