
          888.

afar, one might think the Dogwood was in flower.  No wonder
many people called it the Dogwood, everybody that was asked
called it the Dogwood.  Mr. M. brought his camera and at one
place we stopped to get a full-sized picture of the Arbutus.
While we were arranging the camera.  Mr. W. collected some of the
fragrant blossoms, but Mr. D. walked onward.  Presently we
heard him calling us, but it was only after a picture of the Arbutus
was secured that we could follow him.  When we came up with him
we learned what the trouble was.  He had discovered a large owl.
Mr. M. now went to the tree to get a photograph of the bird while 
we remained at a distance.  After a while though, we became tired
waiting for him and Mr. D. showed us the tree.  What a large bird
it was!  It was at least a foot high, nearly 6 inches wide, and
of a tawny color.  Mr. M. was climing the tree when we arrived.
He climbed very cautiously and little by little gradually approached 
the bird.  As he approached it watched him continually and
we expected <s>the</s> to see it take flight at any moment.  Mr. M.
<s>was now</s> soon came very close the bird spread its wings, and opened its beak
<s>a number</s> very threateningly, making a peculiar low sound each time.
Mr. M. succeeded in a little while in getting hold of the bird by its wings
        