62 THE AUDUBON BULLETIN 
Photograph by A. M. Bailey 
SCREECH OWL 
Our Bird House 
Outside the lumber mill in Ontario lay some odd pieces of board. 
Thousands of logs had been sawed into lumber. Even the boom-logs had 
been cut into boards. “The end pieces of these had fine round holes. “Just 
the thing for a bird-house,”’ said I picking up one of them. In a short time, 
the house was made, tossed into the car, driven home to Chicago, and nailed 
to an oak tree in our back yard. 
Whether the rather unusual history of the house had anything to do 
with it, or whether the fragrant northern pine of which it was built was 
the attraction, I can’t say, but it proved a most popular resort for our 
friends in fur and feathers. 
‘The first occupant was a Gray Squirrel who stored his acorns under 
the friendly roof. In the spring a pair of Flickers took possession and 
raised their brood. Summer came, and with it a swarm of bees who filled 
the cavity with honey. Unfortunately these failed to survive the cold 
winter. “The house was taken down, cleaned and replaced. For the next 
three winters the tenant was a cunning little Screech Owl whose solemn 
face appeared daily at the opening just before dusk. 
Only last week, back comes what we think we recognize as the original 
Gray Squirrel! He enters the house, attacks the little sleeping owl in 
broad daylight, pushes it out of the opening, and once more reigns “‘lord of 
histcastlo-« VioLeTt F. HAMMOND. 
