BIRDS OF PENNSYLVANIA . 
155 
with its bill the skin about the head and neck, would swallow the whole 
mass, always, I think, head foremost. When it fed on small birds— 
which were frequently shot and placed in its box—but which it would 
seldom touch, I noticed that it generally tore open the skull and ate the 
brain substance. This owl would never drink water. 
“The flight of the Mottled Owl is smooth, rapid, protracted and 
noiseless. It rises at times above the top branches of the highest of 
our forest trees whilst in pursuit of large beetles; and at other times 
sails low and swiftly over the fields, or through the woods, in search of 
small birds, field mice, moles or wood rats, from which it chiefly derives 
its subsistance. Sometimes on alighting, which it does plumply, the 
Mottled Owl immediately bends its body, turns its head to look behind 
it, performs a curious nod, utters its notes, then shakes and plumes 
itself, and resumes its flight in search of prey. It now and then, while 
on the wing, produces a clicking sound with its mandibles, but more 
frequently when perched near its mate or young. This I have thought 
was done by the bird to manifest its courage, and let the hearer know 
that it is not to be meddled with; although few birds of prey are more 
gentle when seized, as it will suffer a person to touch its feathers and 
\ caress it without attempting to bite or strike with its talons, unless at 
I: rare intervals. 
“ The notes of this owl are uttered in a tremulous, doleful manner, and 
| somewhat resemble the chattering of the teeth of a person under the 
influence of extreme cold, although much louder. They are heard at a 
distance of several hundred yards, and by some people are thought to 
be of ominous import.” 
“ The little fellow is generally found about farm-houses, orchards and 
| gardens. It alights on the roof, the fence or the garden gate, and utters 
j its mournful ditty, at intervals, for hours at a time, as if it were in a 
j state of great suffering, although this is far from being the case—the 
song of all birds being an indication of content and happiness. In a 
state of confinement it utters its notes with as much satisfaction as if at 
| liberty. They are chiefly heard during the latter part of winter—that 
1 being the season of love, when the male bird is particularly attentive to 
the fair one, which excites his tender emotions, and around which he 
! flies and struts much in the manner of the common pigeon, adding 
i numerous nods and bows, the sight of which is very amusing.”— Audubon. 
The following interesting account of the methods employed by an 
! enthusiastic oologist is taken from a letter written to me, October, 1889, 
! by Mr. O. B. Hark, of Bethlehem: “ Have you ever heard of fixing 
holes for Sparrow Hawks and Screech Owls ? Mr. John Mack, the best 
i climber I ever met, every spring cleans out old holes, enlarges such as 
are too small, etc., and finds it pays him well; this spring he got ninety 
Sparrow Hawk eggs and every one was taken out of holes fixed by him ; 
at one time he put the leg of an old rubber boot in a hollow tree and 
