The Long-eared Owl 
completely was the play carried out that the bird fluttered her wings and 
trod vigorously, with a rocking motion, as though sinking her claws 
deeply into a victim. I was astounded. Nor should I believe the 
evidence of my own eyes to this day, if I had not witnessed the same 
play repeatedly thereafter. The Owl thought she had me going, and I 
humored her to the point of absolute personal satisfaction. There was 
never a trace of fur or 
feathers or gore on the 
deserted stage. The 
distress cries, always 
convincing, were never 
overdone, but ceased, as 
they should, after the 
first onslaught. Yet if 
I did not yield a prompt 
obedience to the lure, 
the Owl looked about 
reproachfully and then 
redoubled her demon¬ 
strative wrestle with her 
alleged quarry. 
It was noteworthy 
this connection that 
in 
while other birds usually 
paid little heed to the 
notes of this Owl, how¬ 
ever terrifying in volume 
or tone, this distress cry 
commanded instant at¬ 
tention throughout the 
woods. The small birds 
began to chatter sym¬ 
pathetically, while 
Crows and Magpies ral¬ 
lied as though at the 
blast of a bugle. In 
fact, some nimble Mag- 
often as not, 
mfiL zm 
Taken near San Diego Photo by Dickey 
A MENACE IN PIN-FEATHERS 
IT IS TO laugh; but we may suppose his little heart is quaking 
interrupted the play before it was half finished. This was the clew, if 
clew were needed, to the explanation. Your humble servant was a big 
Magpie, who at the sound of conflict might be expected to rush forward 
and snatch the prize from the victor’s grasp. Clever, wasn’t it? And, 
1086 
