(_Concluded from page 28._)
When I found that this first settlement on the gateway had succeeded so
well, I set about forming other establishments. This year I have had four
broods, and I trust that next season I can calculate on having nine. This
will be a pretty increase, and it will help to supply the place of those
which in this neighbourhood are still unfortunately doomed to death, by
the hand of cruelty or superstition. We can now always have a peep at the
owls, in their habitation on the old ruined gateway, whenever we choose.
Confident of protection, these pretty birds betray no fear when the
stranger mounts up to their place of abode. I would here venture a surmise,
that the barn owl sleeps standing. Whenever we go to look at it, we
invariably see it upon the perch bolt upright, and often with its eyes
closed, apparently fast asleep. Buffon and Bewick err (no doubt,
unintentionally) when they say that the barn owl snores during its repose.
What they took for snoring was the cry of the young birds for food. I had
fully satisfied myself on this score some years ago. However, in December,
1823, I was much astonished to hear this same snoring kind of noise, which
had been so common in the month of July. On ascending the ruin, I found a
brood of young owls in the apartment.
Upon this ruin is placed a perch, about a foot from the hole at which the
owls enter. Sometimes, at midday, when the weather is gloomy, you may see
an owl upon it, apparently enjoying the refreshing diurnal breeze. This
year (1831) a pair of barn owls hatched their young, on the 7th of
September, in a sycamore tree near the old ruined gateway.
If this useful bird caught its food by day, instead of hunting for it by
night, mankind would have ocular demonstration of its utility in thinning
the country of mice, and it would be protected and encouraged every where.
It would be with us what the ibis was with the Egyptians. When it has
young, it will bring a mouse to the nest about every twelve or fifteen
minutes. But, in order to have a proper idea of the enormous quantity of
mice which this bird destroys we must examine the pellets which it ejects
from its stomach in the place of its retreat. Every pellet contains from
four to seven skeletons of mice. In sixteen months from the time that the
apartment of the owl on the old gateway was cleaned out, there has been a
deposit of above a bushel of pellets.
The barn owl sometimes carries off rats. One evening I was sitting under a
shed, and killed a very large rat, as it was coming out of a hole, about
ten yards from where I was watching it. I did not go to take it up, hoping
to get another shot. As it lay there, a barn owl pounced upon it, and flew
away with it.
This bird has been known to catch fish. Some years ago, on a fine evening
in the month of July, long before it was dark, as I was standing on the
middle of the bridge, and minuting the owl by my watch, as she brought
mice into her nest, all on a sudden she dropped perpendicularly into the
water. Thinking that she had fallen down in epilepsy, my first thoughts
were to go and fetch the boat; but before I had well got to the end of the
bridge, I saw the owl rise out of the water with a fish in her claws, and
take it to the nest. This fact is mentioned by the late much revered and
lamented Mr. Atkinson of Leeds, in his _Compendium_, in a note, under the
signature of W., a friend of his, to whom I had communicated it a few days
after I had witnessed it.
I cannot make up my mind to pay any attention to the description of the
amours of the owl by a modern writer; at least the barn owl plays off no
buffooneris here, such as those which he describes. An owl is an owl all
the world over, whether under the influence of Momus, Venus, or Diana.
When farmers complain that the barn owl destroys the eggs of their pigeons,
they lay the saddle on the wrong horse. They ought to put it on the rat.
Formerly I could get very few young pigeons till the rats were excluded
effectually from the dovecot. Since that took place, it has produced a
great abundance every year, though the barn owls frequent it, and are
encouraged all around it. The barn owl merely resorts to it for repose and
concealment. If it were really an enemy to the dovecot, we should see the
pigeons in commotion as soon as it begins its evening flight; but the
pigeons heed it not: whereas if the sparrow-hawk or windhover should make
their appearance, the whole community would be up at once, proof
sufficient that the barn owl is not looked upon as a bad, or even a
suspicious, character 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 horrendâ 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 it is
on wing. He may see it and hear it shriek, within a few yards of him, long
before dark; and again, often after daybreak, before it takes its final
departure to its wonted resting place. I am amply repaid for the pains I
have taken to protect and encourage the barn owl; it pays me a
hundred-fold by the enormous quantity of mice which it destroys throughout
the year. The servants now no longer wish to persecute it. Often, on a
fine summer's evening, with delight I see the villagers loitering under
the sycamore trees longer than they would otherwise do, to have a peep at
the barn owl, as it leaves the ivy-mantled tower: fortunate for it, if, in
lieu of exposing itself to danger, by mixing with the world at large, it
only knew the advantage of passing its nights at home; for here
"No birds that haunt my valley free
To slaughter I condemn;
Taught by the Power that pities me,
I learn to pity them."
_Magazine of Natural History._
[1] "He snatched lightning from heaven, and the sceptre from
tyrants."
[2] "Thou canst lead kings and their silly nobles."
[3] "One out of many."
[4] "They are called owls (striges) because they are accustomed
to screech (stridere) by night."
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