a moment the owl was after her, floating,
hovering above, till the right moment came, when he dropped and struck
again. Then the cat whirled and fought like a fury. For a few moments
there was a desperate battle, fur and feathers flying, the cat
screeching like mad, the owl silent as death. Then the great claws did
their work. When I straightened up from my thicket, Kookooskoos was
standing on his game, tearing off the flesh with his feet, and
carrying it up to his mouth with the same movement, swallowing
everything alike, as if famished.

Over them the squirrel, which had whisked up a tree at the first
alarm, was peeking with evil eyes over the edge of a limb, snickering
at the blood-stained snow and the dead cat, scolding, barking,
threatening the owl for having disturbed the search for his stolen
walnuts.

I caught that same owl soon after in a peculiar way. A farmer near by
told me that an owl was taking his chickens regularly. Undoubtedly the
bird had been driven southward by the severe winter, and had not taken
up regular hunting grounds until he caught the cat. Then came the
chickens. I set up a pole, on the top of which was nailed a bit of
board for a platform. On the platform was fastened a small steel trap,
and under it hung a dead chicken. The next morning there was
Kookooskoos on the platform, one foot in the trap, at which he was
pulling awkwardly. Owls, from their peculiar ways of hunting, are
prone to light on stubs and exposed branches; and so Kookooskoos had
used my pole as a watch tower before carrying off his game.

There is another way in which he is easily fooled. In the early
spring, when he is mating, and again in the autumn, when the young
birds are well fed and before they have learned much, you can bring
him close up to you by imitating his hunting call. In the wilderness,
where these birds are plenty, I have often had five or six about me at
once. You have only to go well out beyond your tent, and sit down
quietly, making yourself part of the place. Give the call a few times,
and if there is a young bird near with a full stomach, he will answer,
and presently come nearer. Soon he is in the tree over your head, and
if you keep perfectly still he will set up a great hooting that you
have called him and now do not answer. Others are attracted by his
calling; they come in silently from all directions; the outcry is
startling. The call is more nervous, more eerie, much more terrifying
close at