OUR SCREECH OWL.
Speaking of owls reminds us of a pet screech owl which once happened to belong to us. One evening in midsummer we heard a thump against the screen in front of the fireplace, as if something rather soft had fallen down the chimney. Of course we hurried to see what it could be, and there was a small mouse, not at all hurt.
We caught it as soon as we could, and found that it was covered with soot from its long, dark journey. Then we began guessing how it happened to get into the chimney-top. There was no possible way for it to do this except by being carried there by some other creature. We at once suspected that an owl had caught the mouse and taken it to the top of the chimney to eat. Here the mouse had managed to escape, falling down the long, gloomy shaft. This was what we imagined, you know.
Screech Owl.
Next morning we were under the trees in the garden, when all the birds in another part of the yard commenced such a clatter that we ran to find out the cause. It was a funny sight and a droll sound. There were the mocking-birds, and the sparrows, and the linnets, and the finches, and the bush-tits, and, last and least, the tiny humming-birds, each and all screaming at the top of their voices and hopping about in a certain tree.
We knew in a moment there must be an enemy there, and began to search for him. The birds were not afraid, but flew toward us, looking us in the face, while they screamed louder than before. By this we knew that we must be very near the enemy.
It did not take much hunting to find the cause of the uproar. On a low branch of the tree sat a screech owl,[15] blinking away sleepily. He was not at all embarrassed by so many callers, nor frightened by their noise.
[15] Megascops asio bendirei.