The traveller across the Pampas will see a number of little owls--
generally seated in pairs, during the evening, on the hillocks near the
burrows of the bizcacha, occasionally uttering their strange wild hoots
to each other. If disturbed, they either run into the holes of their
friends, in which they have their abode; or, uttering a shrill, harsh
cry, they move with a remarkably undulatory flight to a short distance,
and then turning round, steadily gaze at their pursuer.