So Shakespeare, "Henry VI.," Part III., Act. v. sc. 6. :

"The owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign."

In mythological history the screech-owl was once a man, Ascalphus by name, transformed by Ceres for his misdeeds into an owl, the messenger of approaching grief, a direful omen to mortals.

If there is light to see, stick your rod in the grass and put your binocular upon the bird as he slowly flies through the meadows. See, although he is called the white owl, and looks very white in the dusk, he is a yellow tawnycolour on the back of the head, altering to a tawny-greyish on the back; his wings beautifully barred with white spots; the breast and under-part a light pinkish-white; the facial and disc feathers round the eyes a silky white; black eyes; yellowish-pale beak, and black feet, covered with thick, short hairs.

This arises

We have mentioned the owl's silent flight. from a most beautiful arrangement of the barbules of the wing-feathers (first pointed out by the late Mr. John Quekett), which renders their under-surface so soft as completely to deaden the sound which from the absence of such structure in the wings of other birds, is produced by the percussion with the air in the act of flight.

The barn-owl has many provincial names: Church-Owl, Hissing Owl, Roarer, Billy - Wix,

Woolert, Hoolet. In the Highlands it is Gaillach-oidhche-gheal, or "the white old woman of the night."

Some have asserted that the barnowl hoots occasionally, but this is not the case. Its note is a weird kind of screech, very difficult to describe. Dresser says: "The call of the barnowl is a loud, harsh, and most weird

sounding shriek; besides this, it some- HEAD OF THE BARN-OWL. times makes a sound which is scarcely distinguishable from the snore of a man."

THE BROWN OR TAWNY OWL.

The call-note of the BROWN or TAWNY OWL (Syrnium aluco) often greets our ears when returning homeward at dusk, one bird answering another from the neighbouring copses; their loud Hoo-hoo-hoo sounding so clear in the still air. It is chiefly in the autumn evenings that the voice of this owl is heard, generally just before dark and also in the early morning. In the breeding-season the male utters a most uncanny note, which makes one creep when heard in the silent forest-glades.

The dark, tawny, brown plumage sufficiently conceals the bird in the gloaming when seeking its food, which is

very varied rats and mice, more especially field-mice, shrews, young hares and rabbits, fish, moles, large beetles, &c., &c. These owls are fond of frogs, and that frogs are well aware of this the following extract from the life of Edwards, the Scottish naturalist, clearly proves. After describing the noise made by a number of frogs on a moonlight night, he says: "Presently, when the whole of the vocalists had reached their highest notes, they became hushed in an instant. I was amazed at this, and began to wonder at the sudden termination of the concert. But, looking about, I observed a brown owl drop down, with the silence of death, on the top of a low dyke close by the orchestra."

This owl is not so dreaded as the barn-owl. In ancient times, amongst the Athenians, the brown owl was the bird of wisdom, and was associated with the goddess Minerva ; Wisdom and Folly were often represented by an owl and a fool's cap and bells. Shakespeare says, in "Love's

Labour's Lost: "

"When blood is nipped, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl-

Tu-whit, tu-who-a merry note."

And Walter Scott makes Goldthred sing a joyous song

anent the owl:

"Of all the birds on bush or tree,

Commend me to the owl,
Since he may best ensample be

To those the cup that trowl.

For, when the sun hath left the west,

He chooses the tree that he loves best,

And he whoops out his song and laughs at his jest.

Then, though hours be late and weather foul,

We'll drink to the health of the bonny, bonny owl."

This owl has a number of provincial names-Tawny Hooting-Owl, Jenny-Howlet, Hoot-Owl, 'Ollering-Owl, Wood-Owl, Ivy-Owl, &c.

THE NIGHTJAR.

Should we happen, on leaving the river in the shades of evening, to cross on our way homeward a bit of ferny heath or dry field near a copse, our attention is aroused by hearing a peculiar snap, snap in the air, and a hawklike bird will pass on its silent way close by us. This is the NIGHTJAR or DOR-HAWK (Caprimulgus Europaus). It has many other provincial names, as Fern-Owl, Night-Hawk, Churn-Owl, Evejar, Goat-Sucker, Puckeridge. All these names are derived from the supposed habits of the bird. Gilbert White says the country-people have a notion that the fern-owl, which they also call Puckeridge, is very injurious to weaning calves, by inflicting, as it strikes at them, the fatal distemper known to cow-leeches by the name of Puckeridge. It is probable that the cow-leeches of that day were very ignorant, and attributed this power to the bird to account for a disease which they knew nothing about.

In Italy the bird is accused of sucking goats; hence its name, Caprimulgus, or Goat-Sucker. It is needless to remark that all these supposed propensities have no existence. The bird lives entirely on insects, chiefly beetles. It is particularly fond of the dor-beetle-the shardborne beetle of Shakespeare-which often rushes by us of an

L

evening with a loud hum; hence its name, Dor-Hawk. The peculiar churning, or rather croaking, noise is de

"The dor-hawk; solitary bird,

Round the dim crags on heaving pinions wheeling,

With untired voice sings an unvaried tune.

Those burring notes are all that can be heard,
In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon."

THE NIGHTJAR.

The burring note, however, is only uttered when the bird is at rest. Dresser ("Birds of Europe") says: "The whirring or churring note, something like that produced by a spinning-wheel, is uttered whilst the bird is perched on a branch; and when flying, it every now and again strikes the points of its wings together, making a sound which may be heard at a considerable distance, at the same time uttering a whistling note. It is by some observers said to possess the power of ventriloquism."

Macgillivray also states ("British Birds," vol. iii. p. 641) "that the whirring sound is made when at rest, and the whistling when on the wing." Harting, in "Birds of Middlesex," says: "I have heard the nightjar make a different noise on the wing, which sounds like 'Wh-ip, wh-ip; but I have not satisfied myself whether this sound proceeds from the bird's throat, or whether it is caused by striking the wings above the back as its flies."

A correspondent of the St. James's Gazette, writing about the nightjar's note, says there are three distinct and totally different notes: the burr, the cry, and the trill. As regards the latter, he says: "The trilling note is very peculiar. What I have seen is this: The two nightjars. are perched each on a separate gable of the house; suddenly, first one, then the other, flies off with a loud slapping noise, produced by striking the wings together over the back. They sink slowly down with wings outspread, and alight upon the gravel-path under my window; they bow and sidle to each other, and then is heard a long-drawn and very musical bubbling note or trill, dying softly away into silence. I had often heard this sound in the distance and been puzzled by it, never dreaming that an amorous nightjar could produce any note so soft and liquid. I imagine it to be peculiar to the breeding season, and to be produced by the male bird only."

The bird, when seen close, is beautifully marked, and very like the grey markings of an oak-bough. When flushed it flies, if possible, to the nearest oak-tree, and there sits on a branch horizontally; and so like is the plumage to the bark, that it is most difficult to discover