The Burrowing Owl 
to greet us. Somehow he seems to he very much excited and he’d 
bow and scrape and say “How d’ye do?” over and over again. And 
then he’ll turn around and say “How d’ye do?” backward; and then 
he’ll say it frontward again. But he won’t stay to shake hands. 
No, not he. Why? Because he’s afraid. Think of that! And he 
doesn’t need to be afraid, either, because he has finger-nails as sharp 
as pins; and if he did stay and shake hands—well, I’m glad he doesn’t 
want to, that’s all. 
No, if we come too close, this funny, silly bird will fiy away 
where we can’t see him any more, or else he’ll pop down into his hole 
again. If we had a spade we’d dig down and find him, but it would 
be a lot of work for daddy or somebody. If we could get down we 
would find Mrs. Burrowing Owl sitting on some round white eggs 
(oh, almost round, not quite) about as many eggs as you have fingers. 
And right beside Mrs. Owl would be a lot of cunning field mice (no, 
not live mice, but almost alive mice) that Billy had brought in for her 
to eat. And besides that there is, let me see, a part of a frog and a 
half-eaten snake and a—and a—oh, dear, I don’t believe this is a 
nice place for us at all. Let’s get out. 
The farmer likes to have these Owls about his place, just because 
they catch mice and gophers. One Owl is better than two cats, just 
to catch mice; and, besides, you don’t have to feed him milk. Per¬ 
haps that’s why he catches mice all the time—because he has to. 
This funny Billy Owl can be serious when he wants to, and he 
wants to be very serious at night in the springtime. Then he goes 
about singing coo coo oo, coo oo oo, in a sweet melancholy voice that 
makes the shivers go up and down your back—unless you happen to 
be a poet; and if you are, you say, “How perfectly beautiful!” And 
you mean it, too. 
But I want to tell you about Billy Owl’s babies, the babies which 
hatch out of the round white eggs—for I think they are the most 
delightful and perfectly behaved children I ever saw. Of course when 
they are tiny babies they have to stay down in the ground with their 
mama. But when they get big enough to walk, then Billy takes 
them out for an airing—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
nine, ten! My! the ground is just boiling over with Owl babies. 
II2 7 
