OTHER OWLS
“Owls not belonging to the horned class lack, of course, the egrets or
plumicorns characteristic of the latter. The largest of the hornless
owls is the howlet or tawny owl, which is about as large as one of our
domestic hens. The predominating color of its plumage is grayish in the
male and reddish in the female, a difference that sometimes causes them
to be mistaken for separate species. On this background color is a
sprinkling of light brown spots, running lengthwise of the body and
less numerous on the breast and stomach than elsewhere. The wings are
marked with several large, white, round spots. The head is very large
and nearly round, the face sunken in the surrounding feathers and
partly concealed by them. The eyes, likewise sunken, are brown and
surrounded with small gray feathers.
“The name howlet is connected in its derivation with the word howl, and
the bird called by that name is indeed remarkable for its cry, not
unlike a wolf’s howl. When at the close of a somber winter day the wind
whips the snow and moans in the trees, one may often hear a frightful
cry, prolonged and mournful, rising from the dark depths of the
forest—hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo. Then in the lonely cottage the
frightened mother makes the sign of the cross, while her little ones
press close to her, crying, and saying, ‘The wolves are coming.’ Don’t
be uneasy, good people; it is not a wolf, it is an owl hoo-hooing,
sounding its war-cry from the top of some hollow oak and getting ready
for its nightly rounds.
“In summer-time the howlet lives in the woods. It hunts by preference
field-mice and meadow-mice, which it swallows whole, afterward throwing
up the skin and bones rolled into a ball. The little birds that worry
it so unmercifully in the daytime, whenever they get a chance to come
upon it unawares in the sunlight, are not safe from its beak in the
hours of darkness if the night-bird can pounce upon them after first
frightening them with its terrible hoo-hoo. Keep as still as mice in
your hiding-places, you finches and redbreasts and tomtits, and don’t
betray yourselves by giving voice to your alarm. Let the owl hoo-hoo as
much as it pleases. If you make a sound you are lost.
“If the fields prove disappointing as a hunting-ground, the owl makes
bold to approach dwelling-houses and finds its way into barns, there to
play the part of cat and thus make good the title of ‘hooting cat’
which has been given it. For patience and skill in catching rats and
mice it rivals Raminagrobis [4] himself. It is a guest to be treated
with respect when hunger compels it to visit our granaries. After
completing its nightly rounds it returns to the woods early in the
morning, hides in the densest thickets or in the trees having the most
abundant foliage, and there passes the day silent and motionless. In
winter its home is always in the hollow of some old tree trunk. It lays
its eggs in the abandoned nests of magpies, crows, buzzards, and
kestrels; and these eggs, of a dingy gray color, are about as large as
a pullet’s, but nearly round.
“The belfry-owl, also known as the barn-owl, is an ungainly bird rather
smaller than the howlet. Its plumage, however, is not wanting in
elegance, being red on the back, sprinkled with gray and brown and
prettily dotted with white points alternating with dark ones, and white
underneath, with or without brown spots. The eyes are deep-set and each
is encircled by a ring of fine white feathers almost like hair. A
little collar bordered with red frames the face. The beak is whitish,
and the claws are covered only with a soft white down, very short,
under which the pink flesh can be seen. This bird has none of the proud
bearing of the eagle-owl and the red owl; it carries itself awkwardly
with an embarrassed, almost shamefaced look. Humpbacked and with wings
hanging down, face sad and scowling, and legs long and ungainly—such is
the barn-owl’s appearance in repose. As if to complete its ungraceful
attitude, the bird, whenever anything disturbs it, teeters from side to
side in a ludicrous fashion, with haggard eyes and wings slightly
raised.”
“And what is the teetering for?” asked Jules.
“No doubt to frighten its enemy. In time of danger the barn-owl utters
a harsh, grating cry—craa! craa! craa!—which often frightens away the
enemy. The owl’s habitual cry in the silence of the night is a
mournful, heavy breathing not unlike the snoring of a man sleeping with
his mouth open. To these cries add the darkness of the night, the near
neighborhood of churches and cemeteries, and you will understand how
the innocent barn-owl has managed to frighten children, women, and even
men; you will be able to see why it has the reputation of being a
funeral bird, the bird of death, summoning to the cemetery one of the
persons living in the house it visits. The French name, effraie
(fright), has reference to these superstitious terrors; it designates
the bird that frightens with its nightly chant those who are foolish
enough to believe in ghosts and sorcerers.”
“It may practise its chant on our roof as much as it likes,” Jules
declared boldly; “it won’t scare me a bit.”
“Nor would it scare any one else if everybody would listen to reason
instead of putting faith in ridiculous stories. Fear, like cruelty, is
the daughter of ignorance. Train your reason, accustom yourselves to
see things as they really are, and foolish fears will be banished.
“The barn-owl also goes by the name of belfry-owl, because it likes to
make its home in old church towers. Sometimes it will enter a church by
night to hunt mice. Those who first came upon the ill-famed bird near
the altar did not fail to accuse it of drinking oil from the lamp or,
rather, of eating it when it is congealed by the cold. The charge
itself proves its own falsity, as oil cannot congeal in a lamp that is
always kept burning. But the slanderers do not trouble themselves about
a little thing like that when they wish to blacken the bird’s
reputation. They will continue for a long time, if not forever, to
regard the owl as a profaner of holy lamps. In Provence they will
always call this bird the oil-drinker.
“In reality, the barn-owl lives on rats and mice, which it catches in
barns and churches; on field-mice, meadow-mice, and dormice, which it
hunts in gardens and fields. Here, beyond a doubt, we have a service
rendered that ought to make people forget its false reputation, make
them like and protect it as it deserves. Will the bird that gives us
very real help and is guiltless of a single offense ever be declared
innocent? I very much doubt it. Superstition is so deep-rooted that
there will never be lacking a One-eyed John to nail a live owl to his
door.
“The barn-owl likes to live in inhabited regions. The roofs of
churches, summits of steeples, high towers—these are its favorite
haunts. All day it remains crouching in some dark hole, from which it
does not come out until after sunset. Its manner of taking flight
deserves mention. First it lets itself fall from the summit of its
steeple like a dead weight, and it does not spread its wings until
after a rather long vertical drop. It then pursues a zigzag course,
making no more noise than if the wind bore it along. It is fond of
nesting in abandoned ruins, in the hollow trunks of worm-eaten trees,
occasionally in barns, high up on some beam. But it builds no nest to
hold its eggs, which are laid on the spot that may have been selected,
with no leaves, roots, or hair to serve as bedding. The laying takes
place toward the end of March and is limited to five or six white eggs
remarkable for their oval shape, an exceptional shape for nocturnal
birds of prey. The little ones, with their large eyes, beak stretched
open for food, and rumpled down, are the ugliest creatures imaginable.
The mother feeds them with insects and bits of mouse-flesh.
“The smallest of our hornless owls is the sparrow-owl. Like the red
owl, it is about the size of a blackbird. It is dark brown in color,
with large white spots of a round or oval shape. The throat is white,
and the tail is crossed by four narrow whitish stripes. The sparrow-owl
has a quick and light bearing, and it sees by day much better than
other night birds; therefore it sometimes chases small birds, but
rarely with success. When it has the good luck to catch one it plucks
it very clean before eating it, instead of following the gluttonous
example of the horned owls and the howlet, which swallow such prey
whole and throw the feathers up later. Its hunting expeditions are much
more fruitful when directed against field-mice and common mice, which
it dismembers before eating. Other owls make but one mouthful of their
prey; the sparrow-owl tears to pieces the animal it has caught, perhaps
so that it may enjoy the flavor more. To express astonishment,
surprise, fear, the barn-owl waddles in a most ridiculous manner; but
the sparrow-owl adopts another method: it bows its legs, crouches down,
and then abruptly rises, lengthening its neck and turning its head to
right and left. You would say it was moved by springs from within. This
performance is repeated over and over again, each time accompanied by a
clacking of the beak. In flight the bird’s habitual cry is poo, poo,
poo; at rest it says ay-may, aid-may, repeated several times in quick
succession in a tone almost human.
“The sparrow-owl lives in deserted buildings, quarries, old and
dilapidated towers, but never in hollow trees. It frequents the roofs
of churches and of village houses. Its nest consists of a hole in a
rock or a wall, where it lays four or five round white eggs somewhat
speckled with red.”