IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 
them among the reeds, and swooping with a rush he descended 
upon the flock and his sharp claws tore into the soft back of a 
Mallard duck. With a cry of terror the unfortunate bird was 
borne to “Old Flead Hunter’s” perch, where he speedily went 
the way of his predecessors. 
Just as “rosy-fingered dawn” was tinting the eastern sky 
the Great Horned Owl disposed of his last victim, a song spar¬ 
er 
row that had stirred out a little too early. As the darkness of 
/ 
the forest gave way to the gray twilight of the early morning, 
he slowly and silently sailed away to his home, somewhere in 
the* depths of the tamarack swamp, where he still lives un- 
molested and unavenged. He builded wisely, as the approach 
to his castle, owing to the tangled undergrowth and insecure 
C3 
footing, is almost impassible for human pursuers. 
^ 0 
“So, when the night falls, and dogs do howl, 
Sing, Ho! for the reign of the Horned Owl! 
We know not alway 
Who are Kings by day; 
But the King of the night is the bold brown Owl.” 
00 
A 
y 
*7 
« 
v 
Barry Cornwall. 
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A.Q 
L J 
..c. -A - 
