. The dry remains are then rolled into large
pellets by the stomach, and disgorged.

This, by the way, suggests the best method of finding an owl's haunts.
It is to search, not overhead, but on the ground under large trees,
till a pile of these little balls, of dry feathers and hair and bones,
reveals the nest or roosting place above.

It seems rather remarkable that my fisherman-owl did not make a try at
the coots that were so plenty about him. Rarely, I think, does he
attempt to strike a bird of any kind in the daytime. His long training
at the north, where the days are several months long, has adapted his
eyes to seeing perfectly, both in sunshine and in darkness; and with
us he spends the greater part of each day hunting along the beaches.
The birds at such times are never molested. He seems to know that he
is not good at dodging; that they are all quicker than he, and are not
to be caught napping. And the birds, even the little birds, have no
fear of him in the sunshine; though they shiver themselves to sleep
when they think of him at night.

I have seen the snowbirds twittering contentedly near him. Once I saw
him fly out to sea in the midst of a score of gulls, which paid no
attention to him. At another time I saw him fly over a large flock of
wild ducks that were preening themselves in the grass. He kept
straight on; and the ducks, so far as I could see, merely stopped
their toilet for an instant, and turned up one eye so as to see him
better. Had it been dusk, the whole flock would have shot up into the
air at the first startled quack--all but one, which would have stayed
with the owl.

His favorite time for hunting is the hour after dusk, or just before
daylight, when the birds are restless on the roost. No bird is safe
from him then. The fierce eyes search through every tree and bush and
bunch of grass. The keen ears detect every faintest chirp, or rustle,
or scratching of tiny claws on the roost. Nothing that can be called a
sound escapes them. The broad, soft wings tell no tale of his
presence, and his swoop is swift and sure. He utters no sound. Like a
good Nimrod he hunts silently.

The flight of an owl, noiseless as the sweep of a cloud shadow, is the
most remarkable thing about him. The wings are remarkably adapted to
the silent movement that is essential to surprising birds at dusk. The
feathers are long and soft. The laminae extending from the wing quills,
instead of ending in the sharp feather