654 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 27, igo 5 . 
Kingfisher, Trout and Snake. 
FAMILY OF YOUNG BURROWING OWLS AT MOUTH OF BL r RROW. 
The young owls, by some unmistakable percep¬ 
tion, knew of the approach of food, for there was 
a sudden outburst in the soap box like the 
whistle of escaping steam. It was answered by 
an unearthly, rasping, witching screech. I 
thought of the time we used to creep out at the 
dead of night and scare an old negro by drawing 
a chunk of rosin along a cord attached to the 
top of an empty tin can. Again and again the 
shadow came and went. Then I crept into the 
barn, felt my way up and edged along the rafters 
to the hen-roosty old box. Silently I waited and 
listened to a nasal concert that was about as pleas¬ 
ing as a cageful of musical snakes. The minute 
food was brought; I flashed a match and saw 
one of the little “monkey-faces” tearing the head 
from the young gopher. 
The next time I climbed the cob-webbed rafters 
to phdtograph the young owls, I cautiously thrust 
in my hand to pull out the nearest nestling. In 
a twinkling he fell flat on his back and clutched 
me with both claws. Of all the grips. I ever felt, 
that was the most like a needle-toothed steel 
trap. I felt the twinge of pain as the sharp 
talons sank into the flesh. I cringed and the 
grip tightened. The slightest movement was the 
signal for a tenser grasp. It was the clutch that 
fastens in the prey and never relaxes till the 
stillness of death follows. I hung to the rafters 
and gritted my teeth till I could wedge in my 
thumb and pry the claws loose. 
The young owls were hardly old enough to 
fly, but they could raise their wings and run like 
a cat for the darkest corner. We had never tried 
the camera on such a ferocious lot of birds. They 
knew the art of self-defense like a professional 
prize fighter. Approach one and he was on his 
guard. He would turn on his back in an inkling 
and throw up his claws. “Come on. I’m ready.” 
■he seemed to say, and we kept our distance. The 
oldest one had a villainous temper; at times he 
was a peaceable looking citizen, but he was 
always wary and suspicious. He turned his back 
on the Camera in disgust, or sat with his chin 
resting on his chest like a broken down lawyer, 
but one eye was always open and watching every 
move v e made. 
A pair of barn owls occupied one of the towers 
of the Smithsonian Institution at Washington. 
When the young were half grown, the floor was 
strewn with pellets. An examination of two 
hundred of these showed a total of four hundred 
and fifty-four skulls. Four hundred and twelve 
of these were mice, twenty rats, twenty shrews, 
one mole and a vesper sparrow. 
A family of young barn owls will number from 
three to seven birds. It is incredible what an 
amount of vermin a nestful of young owls will 
consume. An old owl will capture as much or 
more food than a dozen cats in a night. The 
owlets are always hungry; they will eat their 
own weight in food every night, and more if 
they can get it. A case is on record where a 
half grown owl was given all the mice it would 
eat. It swallowed eight in rapid succession. The 
ninth followed, all but the tail, which for some 
time hung out of the bird’s mouth. The rapid 
digestion of the raptores is shown by the fact 
that in three hours the little glutton was ready 
for a second meal and swallowed four additional 
mice. If this is the performance of a single bird, 
the effect that a whole nestful of owls would have 
cn the vermin of a community is self evideitt. 
An owl spreads terror among the small ground 
folk, as a ghost among negroes. It is the owl’s 
shadow-silent wings, his sharp, sound-catching 
ear and his night-piercing eves, that make him 
the superior of the mouse, the mole, the gopher 
and the squirrel. He fans over the field with an 
ominous screech that sets a mouse scampering 
to his hole, but his ear has caught the footstep ; 
those wings are swift, these steel trap claws are 
always ready, his drop is sure, his grip is death. 
Port and, Oregon. 
_ New York, Oct. 20.— Editor Forest a)id 
Stream: I have read with considerable interest 
the letter of Wooden Sinker relative to the des- , 
truction of game fish by kingfishers, and have 
likewise read the articles on the other side of the 
question in your last issue. 
I agree in the main with Wooden Sinker, as 
to the destructiveness of the kingfisher and also 
as to his apparent predilection for trout, yet I 
am in accord with Forest and Stream as to the 
question of extermination. I own a trout stream, 
which I keep well stocked from retaining ponds, 
where I keep the fingerlings from two to three 
years until of sufficient size to place in the stream 
proper; arid I have found the most efficacious 
method to control the kingfisher question has 
been, aside from wire netting, which is too ex¬ 
pensive, to keep the vicinity of the ponds cleared 
of trees of any great height and particularly dead 
timber. That busy little bird, with his “reel” 
attachment, must get, so to speak, a “standing 
start” in order to make his “pounce” successful, 
and by removing his “perches,” he is like the 
man in the song, “Ain't much use in comin’ 
round.” 
I have become at times rather exasperated at 
them, for they do kill fish, but on the other hand 
they certainly are handsome birds and their bright 
colors against the dark foliage along the stream 
make a beautiful contrast, and furthermore their 
killings are not equaled by those of the black 
and water snake; the latter are more destructive 
than the kingfisher and I.wage continual war on 
them. The water snake is a perfect glutton, and 
is apparently no- respecter of size, as the follow¬ 
ing incident will show. I was with a friend of 
mine in a stream situated in the same county 
in which my stream is located, and a seven inch 
trout rose to his fly. In drawing the fish in to 
take it off, he brought his line past a small bunch 
of grass near the bank, when to his great sur¬ 
prise, a water snake shot from the bank and 
seized the trout, and for a few seconds things 
were lively, but the snake finally broke lose, and 
the little trout, which my friend had expected to 
let go, was reeled in with its back broken and 
scarred. The black snake is not of course as 
destructive as the water snake, but can and does 
take care of his share of young trout. The water 
snake possibly has his place to fill in the equilib¬ 
rium established by nature, but it is not so ap¬ 
parent to me as that of the kingfisher, and if 
it comes to the question of saving our birds at 
the expense of the snakes, my vote is for the 
former. • Nehptus. 
half-grown barn owls. 
