edge of other birds, are all
drawn out to fine hair points, through which the air can make no sound
as it rushes in the swift wing-beats. The _whish_ of a duck's wings
can be heard two or three hundred yards on a still night. The wings of
an eagle rustle like silk in the wind as he mounts upward. A sparrow's
wings flutter or whir as he changes his flight. Every one knows the
startled rush of a quail or grouse. But no ear ever heard the passing
of a great owl, spreading his five-foot wings in rapid flight.

He knows well, however, when to vary his program. Once I saw him
hovering at dusk over some wild land covered with bushes and dead
grass, a favorite winter haunt of meadow-larks. His manner showed that
he knew his game was near. He kept hovering over a certain spot,
swinging off noiselessly to right or left, only to return again.
Suddenly he struck his wings twice over his head with a loud flap, and
swooped instantly. It was a clever trick. The bird beneath had been
waked by the sound, or startled into turning his head. With the first
movement the owl had him.

All owls have the habit of sitting still upon some high point which
harmonizes with the general color of their feathers, and swooping upon
any sound or movement that indicates game. The long-eared, or
eagle-owl invariably selects a dark colored stub, on top of which he
appears as a part of the tree itself, and is seldom noticed; while the
snowy owl, whose general color is soft gray, will search out a birch
or a lightning-blasted stump, and sitting up still and straight, so
hide himself in plain sight that it takes a good eye to find him.

The swooping habit leads them into queer mistakes sometimes. Two or
three times, when sitting or lying still in the woods watching for
birds, my head has been mistaken for a rat or squirrel, or some other
furry quadruped, by owls, which swooped and brushed me with their
wings, and once left the marks of their claws, before discovering
their mistake.

Should any boy reader ever have the good fortune to discover one of
these rare birds some winter day in tramping along the beaches, and
wish to secure him as a specimen, let him not count on the old idea
that an owl cannot see in the daytime. On the contrary, let him
proceed exactly as he would in stalking a deer: get out of sight, and
to leeward, if possible; then take every advantage of bush and rock
and beach-grass to creep within range, taking care to advance only
when hi