FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. ii, 1908 . 
5 2 
' 
small switch, slipped it gently under her neck, 
raised her head and held it up for three more 
snaps. When I removed the switch the bird’s 
head was lowered very slowly, much like that 
of a sleepy worshipper in a church, until it 
rested once more close to the ground. 
I paid my final visit on the next Sunday, when I 
found that all that was left of the happy home 
was four empty egg shells. The members of the 
family, if still in the neighborhood, were hid¬ 
den so cunningly that I could not find them. 
I looked for the birds in the same place when 
the corn was ripe, the pumpkins yellow, and the 
leaves turning, but failed to flush one of them. 
Evidently they had left for the season. 
After recovering from our astonishment and 
chaffing the hapless Horace on the loss of his 
fish, I attached a large dead one to a fly and 
trailed it up and down before the canoe in the 
water. The sight was too much for Bubo, and 
after a half minute of rising excitement he again 
left his perch and dashed down upon the quarry, 
which I took care to drag near to the guide. 
Horace, when the owl seized the trout, let him 
have it hard with the paddle and the audacious 
bird was our captive with a broken wing. The 
blow evidently stunned him, for he made little 
resistance and seemed somewhat dazed. We 
carried him to camp and essayed to bifid up his 
wing, but it proved too badly hurt, and we were 
The Wounded Duck. 
[From the ’ Notes of Richard Henry, caretaker of 
Resolution Island, the New Zealand Government s bird 
refuge and nursery.] 
At the beginning of every shooting season it 
is common to see a single paradise duck flying 
about the sound looking for its mate, which shows 
that they go over the mountains to the grass 
country in search of seed or grain. 
On the 4th of April, 1903, a wounded drake 
came into my little sandy bay on Pigeon Island 
and crawled under the wire netting to get a 
a bit of grass at my door, so that he must have 
been starving to be so venturesome. When 
accidentally frightened him he flew lightly agains 
the netting, but hurt himself so much that h 
fainted. I thought he was dead, but while 
was looking at him he recovered and toddled, 
away in great straits. He can fly well, but walk, 
a little lame, and spends most of his time lyin; 
on the beach. He seemed not to recognize oat 
in that unlikely place, so I peeled big sods 0 
grass out of my garden and laid them dow 
where he used to rest, and when he had plucke 
them well I laid the oats on them and then h 
ate it. Of course, I had to be very cautious an 
only go to his place when he was away, or h 
would have gone altogether. All wounded wi! 
things like to go away and live by themselve 
because their mates will not have them in tf 
first place, and in the second it is their be 
chance of a rest for recovery. But those beacln 
are hungry places, and he must have got a gre, 
surprise when he came back and found a pate 
of splendid grass growing on the sand. It wou 
puzzle his head about the power he does n 
understand. He is probably one of a pair th 
used to come here, and in his great distress 1 
remembered where there was a bit of grass 
a lonely nook, a suitable place for an invalid, 
knew that they were very intelligent, but tl 
one showed it in a most remarkable way, f 
it was only a few days until he knew perfect 
well that I was leaving the food for him, at 
that I was friendly. He would be up at his b< 
in the morning and find it empty, yet woir 
swim back and go straight up to it again wh 
he saw me leaving it. That showed his reaso 
ing. If he will only stay here altogether he w 
be very welcome, and he may do so, for he fli 1 
a little stiffer than when he first came. Wh 
I go away in the sound I can always leave h 
some food, and he is welcome to the grass. 
May 2.—The sparrows soon found the dud 
food; also the woodhens learned to eat the whe 
so I flattened a fern-stem and put it upon stal 
within shot of the flax. Then I took a f 
“rise” out of the sparrows, and have not se: 
them since. The duck recognized his box 
there and flew up at once. He lies there n<j 
most of the day, or comes round after me a| 
sits on a rock within forty yards of where I ij 
cutting wood. The paradise all like the co 
pany of men, if the men would only have the| 
and that trait is. almost sure to be in remej 
brance of a friendlier race of men that used 
live in New Zealand. 
May 10.—Within the last few days the di 
has become quite tame. He has plenty of co 
age, and when he sees the woodhens walk: 
right up to me he appears to say to himself, 
they are not afraid I am not.” So this mo 
ing he comes up and has his food in his 1 
(Continued on page 76.) 
FRIENDS. 
From the County Gentleman. 
I am sorry to say that the photo films were 
spoiled in developing, but perhaps I may have 
better luck next spring when I hope there may 
be another nest in the old place and when, if 
all is well, I shall look for it there. 
R. M. B. 
The Gre&t Horned Owl as a Fisher. 
South Milford, N. S., Dec. 23. —Editor Forest 
and Stream: Near noon on Sept. 1 of this year 
Mr. S. Grahame Nobbes, the guide Horace 
Munro, and myself were fishing the first pool in 
George’s Lake, and having the finest sport of 
our trip. From a limb on the opposite side of 
the pool, some forty yards from our canoe, a 
large great horned owl watched operations with 
very evident interest, to judge from his excited 
movements, which consisted of quick turnings of 
the head, leaning forward and half opening of 
the wings. Mr. Nobbes and I hooked, netted 
and returned to the water some dozen trout of 
good size, and concluded to rest the pool so 
far as we were concerned. I therefore handed 
my rod to Horace, who is as fond of the sport 
as most of us. He promptly rose, hooked, but 
lost a big fellow, and we laughingly prophesied 
that he would not land a single fish. His an¬ 
swer was to hook another beauty of about one 
pound weight, and he was playing it out in good 
style, when the owl, that had got more and more 
interested in the game, suddenly swooped down 
upon the fish with a great splash and was off in 
a second with the trout and a yard or more of 
leader streaming from it. The owl probably got 
a bad hold, or the fish wriggled loose, for he 
dropped it after flying about fifty yards, then 
circled and alighted upon another limb not far 
from his first station, but rather nearer to the 
forced to kill the great bird, which was quite 
full grown. 
Inquiry in the country round about has elicited 
no knowledge of a similar instance of an owl 
catching trout, though our mutual friend, War¬ 
den Edmund Jenner, of Digby, writes me that 
he has heard of theffi catching suckers in shallow 
brooks. Many of us, however, have very often 
noticed owls perched upon limbs overhanging 
good trout waters, and I am now convinced that 
they often pick up a good meal when the fish 
remain too long near the surface. 
Edward Breck. 
Economic Mammalogy. 
The field included in this branch of the work 
of the Biological Survey is wide and important, 
the losses inflicted upon the agricultural and 
stock-raising interests in the United States by 
noxious animals amounting annually to many 
millions of dollars. The most prominent offend¬ 
ers are the wolves and gnawing animals known 
as rodents, especially the rats and mite, rabbits, 
ground squirrels and gophers. Much time and 
ingenuity and vast sums of money have been ex¬ 
pended in devising means to restrict the num¬ 
bers and minimize the damage done by these 
animals. Traps, poisons and gases have been 
carefully experimented with under varying circum¬ 
stances, and have proved more or less effective, 
but the farmer does not always possess the requi¬ 
site time and skill to employ them to best ad¬ 
vantage, and even when they serve to accomplish 
the object intended the cost is considerable. 
Meanwhile agriculture is assuming more and 
more importance in the United States, and with 
increasing crops comes a corresponding increase 
in the numbers of the pests that destroy them. 
