THE SNOWY OWL. 
115 
a fish of any size was hooked, as I may say, the Owl struck the other fool 
also into it, and flew off with it to a considerable distance. In two instances 
of this kind, I saw the bird carry its prey across the Western or Indiana 
Shute, into the woods, as if to be quite out of harm’s way. I never heard 
it utter a single note on such occasions, even when two birds joined in the 
repast, which was frequently the case, when the fish that had been caught 
was of a large size. At sunrise, or shortly after’, the Owls flew to the woods, 
and I did not see them until the nest morning, when, after witnessing the 
same feats, I watched an opportunity, and killed both at one shot. 
An old hunter, now residing in Maine, told me that one winter he lost so 
many musk-rats by the Owls, that he resolved to destroy them. To effect 
this, without loss of ammunition, a great object to him, he placed musk-rats 
caught in the traps usually employed for the purpose, in a prominent spot, 
and in the centre of a larger trap. He said he seldom failed, and in this 
manner considerably “thinned the thieves,” before the season was over. 
He found, however, more of the Great Grey Owl, Strix cinerea, than of 
the Snowy Owl. The latter he thought was much more cunning than the 
former. 
In the course of a winter spent at Boston, I had some superb specimens of 
the Snowy Owl brought to me, one of which, a male, was alive, having only 
been touched in the wing. He stood upright, keeping his feathers close, but 
would not suffer me to approach him. His fine eyes watched every move- 
ment I made, and if I attempted to walk round him, the instant his head had 
turned as far as he could still see me, he would open his wings, and with 
large hops get to a corner of the room, when he would turn towards me, and 
again watch my approach. This bird had been procured on one of the sea- 
islands off Boston, by a gunner in my employ, who, after following it from 
one rock to another, with difficulty wounded it. In the course of the same 
winter, I saw one sailing high over the bay along with a number of gulls, 
which appeared to dislike his company, and chased him at a respectful dis- 
tance, the owl seeming to pay no regard to them. 
Several individuals have been procured in South Carolina, one on James’ 
Island, another, now in the Charleston Museum, on Clarkson’s plantation, 
and a fine one was shot at Columbia, the seat of government, from the chim- 
ney of one of the largest houses in that town, and was beautifully preserved 
by Professor Gibbes of the Columbia College. I once met with one while 
walking with a friend near Louisville in Kentucky, in the middle of the day. 
It was perched on a broken stump of a tree in the centre of a large field ; 
and, on seeing us, flew off, sailed round the field, and alighted again on the 
same spot. It evinced much impatience and apprehension, opening its wings 
several times as if intending to fly off ; but, with some care, it was approached 
