nks
of the stream were lined thickly on both sides with trees, both large
and small, we seated ourselves for a time to rest and to watch. Like
Egyptian darkness, the quiet was of a kind to be felt, but it did not
long remain this way. Suddenly the strange quiet was broken by a
fierce, angry call of a crow. Now, where did he come from, and why this
display of anger? Possibly at our intrusion; yet this could hardly be,
as it was far too early in the season for the crow to be nesting.
Before we had time to settle our question the stillness was further
broken by several shrill answers, and into the branchy arena came other
crows. These were followed by others, and still others. Surely we were
not the cause of all this disturbance. Finally there were no less than
two dozen crows flying around a large tree with a broken top, and
making a clatter that would have put a boiler factory to shame. One
could easily imagine it to be a congress of crows exorcised over an
insurgency move and demanding the previous question. Then came the
solution of the mystery. In dignified yet rapid flight a huge owl
dropped from a limb on the other side of the stump, and with a flight
as silent as the grave winged her way into the deeper woods followed by
that rabble of noisy, cawing crows. It seemed strange that the owl did
not turn upon her tormentors; she who had talons long, strong, and
sharp; a beak that could easily make its impression upon a pine stick;
but her reputed wisdom here led her to know that safety lay in flight,
as her size would be her undoing; that the crow would find many points
of attack ere she could turn around. Safety lay in flight and shelter
where the crows could not reach her, and would finally caw themselves
hoarse and tired, and at last depart. Many times have I watched these
actions on the part of the owls and crows, and always with the same
results. Not alone the larger, but also the smaller owls adopt the same
course of action to escape their tormentors. This leads me to believe
that this partly accounts for their foraging at night.

[Illustration: NEST OF BARRED OWL.]

We now turned our attention to the tree--truly a monarch of the "forest
primeval"--a huge sycamore, about five feet in diameter at the base,
with few limbs to aid in climbing. But we simply must get up to that
hollow, and after much effort success was ours; and there, deep down in
the hole, on a bed of warm chips and half-rotted punky wood, all nicel