“It is only the large Owls, however,” continued Uncle Thomas, “which prey upon poultry; the lesser ones confine their depredations to the smaller animals, such as Mice, Rats, &c., and are thus very useful to mankind in destroying such animals as would otherwise do much mischief to the crops. Some of the species also feed on fish, a fact as to which naturalists were long incredulous, on account of the want of adaptation in the structure of the Owl, as they thought, to capture such a description of prey. Recent observation has, however, confirmed the fact beyond a doubt. Not only have they been seen to carry fish to feed their young, but the bones have frequently been observed close under the nest. Many years ago the Duchess of Portland had a quantity of gold and silver fish in a pond in the flower garden at Bulstrode. As the fish were frequently missed, and suspecting that they were stolen, a watch was kept in order to detect the thief. He was soon discovered in the shape of several common brown Owls, which alighted on the side of the pond, and, waiting the approach of the fish, captured and devoured them. A naturalist, speaking of this singular habit of the Owl, relates that, on one occasion, a person standing on a bridge in the twilight of a July evening, watching an Owl carrying Mice to its nest, was surprised to see it suddenly drop perpendicularly into the water. Thinking that it had been seized with a fit, or had met with some unacountable accident, he ran to the end of the bridge to procure a boat to go to its rescue, but, before he could do this, he saw the Owl rise out of the water, bearing a fish in its claws, and convey it to its nest.”
“The Owl must be very clear sighted, indeed, to see a fish in the water at night,” said Harry.
“The fact is so well established,” said Uncle Thomas, “that it admits of no doubt. The explanation which some naturalists give of the manner in which the fish are decoyed towards it is, I admit, a little more questionable. They suppose that the luminous appearance of its large bright eyes attract the fish, and that it stares at them till they come within reach of its beak or talons.”
“I have seen the Cat’s eyes glaring in a dark room,” said Jane; “I suppose it is something of the same kind, Uncle Thomas.”
“Quite so,” said Uncle Thomas; “and though, from its very great singularity, the supposition at first startles us, one of the American Bitterns possesses a power something akin to it. The bird lives almost entirely on fish, and, when in search of its prey, it is said to decoy them within reach by a light from its breast of considerable brilliancy, which is described, by those who have seen it, as equal to the light of a common torch.”
“But are fish attracted by light?” asked Mary.
“Oh, yes,” said Uncle Thomas; “sportsmen in every country use torches to take them, spearing them as they come to the surface of the water, to gaze on the singular and unusual appearance.
“In America,” continued Uncle Thomas, “some species of Owls are very numerous. A rambler among the forests of the ‘Far West’ says, that it is almost impossible to travel eight or ten miles in any of the retired woods there without seeing several of them, even in broad day; and, at the approach of night, their cries are heard proceeding from every part of the forest around the plantations. Should the weather be lowering, and indicate the approach of rain, their cries are so multiplied during the day, and especially in the evening, and they respond to each other in tones so strange, that one might imagine some extraordinary fête about to take place among them. On approaching one of them, its gesticulations are of a very extraordinary nature. The position of the bird, which is generally erect, is immediately changed. It lowers its head and inclines its body, to watch the motions of the person beneath; throws backward the lateral feathers of the head, which thus has the appearance of being surrounded by a broad ruff; looks towards him as if half blind, and moves its head to and fro in so extraordinary a manner as almost to induce a person to fancy that part dislocated from the body. It follows all the motions of the intruder with its eyes; and should it suspect any treacherous intentions, flies off to a short distance, alighting with its back to the person, and immediately turning about, with a single jump, to recommence its scrutiny.”
“Another writer,” continued Uncle Thomas, “relates a very amusing story of the terror of a party of hunters, which shows how strongly superstitious feelings sometimes affect the mind:—‘The Virginian Horned Owl,’ says Richardson, ‘is found in almost every quarter of the United States, and occurs in all parts of the fur countries, where the timber is of a large size. Its loud and full nocturnal cry, issuing from the gloomy recesses of the forest, bears some resemblance to the human voice, uttered in a hollow sepulchral tone, and has been frequently productive of alarm to the traveller, of which an instance occurred within my own knowledge. A party of Scottish Highlanders, in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, happened in a winter journey to encamp after night-fall in a dense clump of trees, whose dark tops and lofty stems, the growth of centuries, gave a solemnity to the scene that strongly tended to excite the superstitious feelings of the Highlanders. The effect was heightened by the discovery of a tomb which, with a natural taste often exhibited by the Indians, had been placed at this secluded spot. Our travellers, having finished their supper, were trimming their fire preparatory to retiring to rest, when the slow and dismal notes of the Horned Owl fell on the ear with a startling nearness. None of them being acquainted with the sound, they at once concluded that so unearthly a voice must be the moaning of the spirit of the departed, whose repose they supposed they had disturbed, by inadvertently making a fire of some of the wood of which his tomb had been constructed. They passed a tedious night of fear, and with the first dawn of day hastily quitted the ill-omened spot.’”
“Have not all Owls got horns?” asked Mary. “This one,” pointing to one of the specimens in Uncle Thomas’s collection, “seems to have none.”