144 
THE GREAT HORNED OWL. 
already espied the quarry, and is sailing in wide circles meditating his plan 
of attack. The Turkey-hen, which at another time might be sound asleep, 
is now, however, so intent' on the care of her young brood, that she rises on 
her legs and purs so loudly, as she opens her wings and spreads her tail, 
that she rouses her neighbours, the hens, together with their protector. 
The cacklings which they at first emit soon become a general clamour. The 
squatter hears the uproar, and is on his feet in an instant, rifle in hand ; the 
priming examined, he gently pushes open his half-closed door, and peeps out 
cautiously, to ascertain the cause by which his repose has been disturbed. 
He observes the murderous Owl just alighting on the dead branch of a tall 
tree, when, raising his never-failing rifle, he takes aim, touches the trigger, 
and the next instant sees the foe falling dead to the ground. The bird, 
unworthy of his farther attention, is left a prey to some prowling opossum 
or other carvivorous quadruped, and again all around is tranquillity. 
Differences of locality are no security against the depredations of this 
Owl, for it occurs in the highest mountainous districts, as well as in the low 
alluvial lands that border the rivers, in the interior of the country, and in 
the neighbourhood of the sea-shore. Everywhere it finds abundance of 
food. It is, moreover, an extremely hardy bird, and stands the severest 
winters of our northernmost latitudes. It is consequently found dispersed 
over all parts of the United States. 
The flight of the Great Horned Owl is elevated, rapid and graceful. It 
sails with apparent ease, and in large circles, in the manner of an eagle, rises 
and descends without the least difficulty, by merely inclining its wings or 
its tail, as it passes through the air. Now and then, it glides silently close 
over the earth, with incomparable velocity, and drops, as if shot dead, on the 
prey beneath. At other times, it suddenly alights on the top of a fence-stake 
or a dead stump, shakes its feathers, arranges them, and utters a shriek so 
horrid that the woods around echo to its dismal sound. Now, it seems as 
if you heard the barking of a cur-dog ; again, the notes are so rough and 
mingled together, that they might be mistaken for the last gurglings of a 
murdered person, striving in vain to call for assistance ; at another time, 
when not more than fifty yards distant, it utters its more usual hoo, hoo , hoo-e , 
in so peculiar an under tone, that a person unacquainted with the notes of 
this species might easily conceive them to be produced by an Owl more than 
a mile distant. During the utterance of all these unmusical cries, it moves 
its body, and more particularly its head, in various ways, putting them into 
positions, all of which appear to please it much, however grotesque they may 
seem to the eye of man. In the interval following each cry, it snaps its bill, 
as if by way of amusement ; or, like the wild boar sharpening the edges of 
his tusks, it perhaps expects that the action will whet its mandibles. 
