That night, when I got up to put another bandage on my aching dome of thought, an idea struck me. “You blithering idiot,” said my inner consciousness, “it was an Owl that hit you on the head!”
Of course it was—what else should it be? I went to sleep much reassured, and in the morning I determined to prove myself right.
It must have been my head that attracted Hoot-Mon. Owls live on Weasels, Rabbits, Squirrels, and Hares. At dusk I took my grandmother’s old Mink muff, tied a long string to it, and went out to the stump. I poised the muff airily upon the undergrowth and retired to a safe distance. Then I imitated the Owl’s song and twitched the muff a bit.
A great white shape swooped down and took up the muff in its talons, tearing at it until the interior fell out. Greedily, the Owl ate of this, then immediately coughed and disgorged the whole thing. I laughed wickedly. “Hoot-Mon, my dear old friend,” said I to myself, “that is the time you muffed it.” I was fully revenged for his attack upon me.
I followed him to his nest, which was in a birch tree about three miles from my cabin. I made no attempt to climb to it then, deeming the location of it sufficient work for the time being. His home was there; his watch-tower was a blasted tree which commanded my front door.
A few days later I made the ascent. Very few observers have ever seen an Owl’s nest. This one was not round, but long and narrow, with a great bundle of feathers at one end for a pillow. Hoot-Mon was asleep, lying flat on his back, with a blanket made of Rabbit skins over him, and snoring audibly. In the bottom of the nest was a Hare mattress. I did not disturb him, for he works at night and needs his sleep in the daytime.
An Owl is really a very peculiar beast and one that will amply repay study. His sight and hearing are wonderful, and his eyes are just as good by daylight as by dark, some amateurs to the contrary notwithstanding.
The next time you get hold of a stuffed Owl, part the feathers and closely examine his ears. You will find that they are long, crescent-shaped excavations in his face, coming to a point over his eyes. They are barbed with hairs which act like telephone wires and double and redouble the intensity of every sound. His eyes are set in deeply, so that when he wants to look around, he has to turn his head. He cannot see behind him like a Rabbit, or a Horse without blinders.
An Owl’s stomach is also very peculiar. The alimentary tract is shaped like a wide-mouthed vase, with no intervening crop, as in most Birds. Hoot-Mon packs his food into the flaring top, which is his mouth, and without chewing, crowds it with one foot down through the narrow opening, into the bulb-shaped base. In his stomach is a gland which secretes hydrochloric acid.
With this he digests practically everything but fur and feathers. The facile stomach rolls these into small balls and pushes them out through that same door where in they went.