haracter by the inhabitants of the dovecot.

Till lately, a great and well-known distinction has always been made
betwixt the screeching and the hooting of owls. The tawny owl is the only
owl which hoots; and when I am in the woods after poachers, about an hour
before daybreak, I hear with extreme delight its loud, clear, and sonorous
notes, resounding far and near through hill and dale. Very different from
these notes is the screech of the barn owl. But Sir William Jardine
informs us that this owl hoots; and that he has shot it in the act of
hooting. This is stiff authority; and I believe it because it comes from
the pen of Sir William Jardine. Still, however, methinks that it ought to
be taken in a somewhat diluted state; we know full well that most
extraordinary examples of splendid talent do, from time to time, make
their appearance on the world's wide stage. Thus, Franklin brought down
fire from the skies:--"Eripuit fulmen coelo, sceptrumque tyrannis."[1]
Paganini has led all London captive, by a single piece of twisted
catgut:--"Tu potes reges comitesque stultos ducere."[2] Leibnetz tells us
of a dog in Germany that could pronounce distinctly thirty words,
Goldsmith informs us that he once heard a raven whistle the tune of the
"Shamrock," with great distinctness, truth, and humour. With these
splendid examples before our eyes, may we not be inclined to suppose that
the barn owl which Sir William shot in the absolute act of hooting may
have been a gifted bird, of superior parts and knowledge (una de multis,[3]
as Horace said of Miss Danaus), endowed perhaps, from its early days with
the faculty of hooting, or else skilled in the art by having been taught
it by its neighbour, the tawny owl? I beg to remark that though I
unhesitatingly grant the faculty of hooting to this one particular
individual owl, still I flatly refuse to believe that hooting is common to
barn owls in general. Ovid, in his sixth book _Fastortim_, pointedly says
that it screeched in his day:--

"Est illis strigibus nomen: sed nominis hujus
Causa, quod horrenda stridere nocte Solent."[4]

The barn owl may be heard shrieking here perpetually on the portico, and
in the large sycamore trees near the house. It shrieks equally when the
moon shines and when the night is rough and cloudy; and he who takes an
interest in it may here see the barn owl the night through when there is a
moon; and he may hear it shriek when perching on the trees, or when