A GOOD-NIGHT

"Haw-haw! Hoo! hoo!"

Phyllis listened again.

"Haw-haw! Hoo! hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"

"Oh, I see you now!" laughed Phyllis.

The owl moved silently as a shadow and perched very near to the little girl. His great round eyes and his yellow bill gleamed in the starlight.

"I heard you calling!" said Phyllis. "But I could not at first tell just where you were. I looked in a dozen trees before I came to you."

"To-who? To-who-whoo-oo-oo?" questioned the owl.

Phyllis laughed again. The owl blinked wisely.

"I am going home to-morrow," Phyllis said. "I shall start to school next week. Some day, perhaps, I shall be as wise as you, Mr. Owl."

The owl only blinked his great eyes.

"But I'm sure I can never look so wise," she added, politely.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo-oo!" hooted the owl, blinking sleepily.

"If you will not talk with me I shall say good-night to you at once!" said Phyllis.

"To-who? To-who-ooo-oo-oo?"

"To-you! To-you-oo-oo-oo!" called Phyllis, running off laughing.

"Papa," she said, a few moments later. "Papa, the hoot-owl would not talk with me!"

"Wise, wise owl!" said papa, smiling at her over his newspaper.

THE OWL

When cats run home, and light is come
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round,
Alone and warming his five wits
The white owl in the belfry sits.

—Tennyson.

THE OWL GIRL

Once a very queer little girl lived in a village beside the great Yukon River.

This little girl did not care to play with other children. Indeed, all day long she would sit inside the stone hut and sleep.

But as soon as evening came the little girl would awaken. She would run out to the river-bank to play. She would shout and laugh.

She did not mind the dark. In fact she declared that the sun hurt her eyes and that she could see far better in the dark.

The child's mother said that for all her queerness the little girl was very wise. She knew many things which grown-up people had never heard.

The people of the village shook their heads. They said there was magic in it all, and that some day something strange would surely happen.

So, when at sunset the queer little girl ran shouting to the river, the people of the village watched from the bushes.

And sure enough, something very wonderful did happen!

One evening the little girl with her big shiny eyes ran shouting among the trees which grew beside the river.

She was chasing a little field-mouse, which at last ran tremblingly up the low branch of a tree and hid in the dark.

But the queer little girl, who could see quite well in the dark, jumped to follow the mouse.

Lo, as she jumped, the queer little girl changed into a bird with a long, long beak and great shining eyes!

Now when she saw what had happened to her she was frightened. In her fright she flew back to her mother's stone hut.

But now that she was a bird she did not remember about the doors and windows. She flew wildly against the stone wall of the house.

So rapid was her flight that she struck the wall with great force. Her long bill and her face were quite flattened by the blow.

She forgot her mother's house, and in pain flew again to the trees by the river.

The next night the mother heard the voice of her queer little girl among the leaves calling, "Whoo-whoo-whoo!"

But when she looked she saw only a flat-faced, big-eyed bird who was making a supper of the poor little field-mouse.

THE OWL AND THE RAVEN[1]

Once upon a time the owl and the raven were fast friends.

They lived beside the same stream. They built their nests in a tree side by side. They sang the same songs. They ate the same food. They wore dresses of the same pale gray.

There was nothing that these friends would not do for each other. So great was their friendship that each was always finding ways to surprise and please the other.

At one time the raven was absent for two whole days.

"What can he be doing?" said the owl to herself. "I know he is planning some new surprise for me."

When, on the third day, the raven returned, the owl knew from his contented looks that the present must be unusually fine.

"It is something more than a beetle or a field-mouse this time," she thought. "Now what can I do for him? He is always so kind to me!"

Then the owl began to look about for something to do for her friend the raven.

On the shore near their home tree a huge whale had once been caught and cut up by the Eskimo hunters. Some of the bones still lay upon the sandy beach.

"Oh," said the owl, as she chanced upon these whalebones, "I know the very thing which will please my dear friend the raven!

"I will make for him a pair of beautiful whalebone boots! With them he can walk over the sharp rocks and the icy cliffs in comfort and safety!"

Thereupon the owl sat down in the sand and went to work. It was not long until the boots were finished. They were beautifully smooth and slender and graceful.

"The raven cannot help being pleased," she said, as she carried the boots toward the home tree. "I wonder if he is in!"

As she drew near the owl heard the raven calling her name. Answering loudly, she hurried to the place where he waited. But before the raven saw her she hid the whalebone boots among the grasses, that she might surprise him later.

She found the raven hopping impatiently about and calling loudly.

"Here—here I am!" she cried. "I have been away for but a short time—but you were away for days!"

"Oh, owl, dear," replied the raven, "though I have been absent I have thought only of you!

"See! here is a beautiful new dress which I have made for you!" And the raven spread before his friend a beautiful dress of dappled black and white.

It was made of the softest, most beautiful feathers, lovely enough to delight the heart of any bird.

"Oh, how very beautiful!" cried the owl. "How kind you are to me! How did you ever think of anything so lovely?"

The raven smiled, well pleased with himself.

"Try it on," he said. "I am sure it will become you. I am certain that when you see how lovely you look, you will never again wish to wear anything but black and white."

Quickly the owl slipped from her old gray dress into the splendid new one. Gently she fluttered about and ruffled the soft black and white feathers.

"Where did you get them?" she said, circling about and looking at her tail for the twentieth time.

"Sit down," commanded the raven, "and I will tell you!" So the owl settled down on the branch beside the raven.

"I found the feathers on that steep, rocky cliff beside the sea," he said. "The stones were sharp and the winds were wearying, but at last I finished the dress just as I planned.

"I am glad that you are pleased. I am very tired now, and must sit still and rest."

So delighted was the owl that for a moment she had forgotten the whalebone boots. Now as she looked at the raven she saw that in scratching about for the feathers he had broken one of his pink toes.

With a little cry of pity she flew to the grasses where the boots were hidden. Quickly she snatched them up and flew back to the poor tired raven.

"Here," she cried, "here!—I thought of you while you were away. Now you shall put your tired feet into these strong whale-bone boots. The stones and the ice cannot hurt you again."

"Oh, oh!" croaked the raven. "They are the very things for which I have been longing!"

"Put them on! Put them on!" cried the owl. "See how they will rest you! They will make you feel quite young again!"

The raven slipped his tired feet into the whalebone boots. Straight away the old tired ache left him. He hopped gaily about and croaked cheerfully.

"How graceful!" he said. "How perfectly they fit! How comfortable."

"Now I shall make a coat for you," said the owl. "It shall be pure white. The feathers shall be the shiniest and the loveliest that I can find!"

By and bye the raven's white coat was ready to be fitted.

"Come," commanded the owl. "Come and stand still while I fit your coat."

The raven came, but so delighted was he with the whalebone boots that he could not stand still. As the owl worked over him he kept hopping and dancing about.

"Stand still!" cried the owl. "I can do nothing with you hopping about so. I shall stick the pin-feathers into you!"

For an instant the raven stood still, looking down at the boots. Then he jumped so suddenly that the owl dropped a whole clawful of the soft white feathers with which she was finishing the neck.

Then the owl grew very angry.

"Stand still!" she hooted. "If you jump another time I will throw the oil from the lamp on you!"'

Now the lamp was filled with whale-oil. In it wicks of moss and twisted grass had been burned. With time and many wicks the oil had become as black as soot.

The raven looked at the black, sooty oil and then at his new white coat. He really stood still for as much as two minutes.

Just as the owl was trying to decide whether or not the coat should be longer, to cover the tops of the new boots, the raven caught sight of his own reflection in the clear water below.

So pleased was he with his appearance that he flapped his wings, and jumped up and down.

The loose white feathers flew in every direction. The pin-feathers dropped to the ground. The angry owl gasped for breath.

Then in a rage she seized the lamp. She flung it at the raven. Alas, for the poor fellow! The oil struck him full on the head. It ran down before. It ran down behind! There was not a dry feather on him!

"Quag! Quag!" croaked he, the oil dripping down on all sides. "Quag! Quag! I shall never speak to you again!"

"No," cried the owl. "Do not speak to me again. I would not have such a sooty friend as you!" and she flew far away.

[1] Adapted from Ethnological Bureau Report.

THE OWL

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
"Tu-who!
Tu-whit! tu-who!" a merry note,
While greasy Jean doth clean the pot.

—"Love's Labour's Lost," Shakespeare.

ALL ABOUT THE BARRED OR HOOT OWL

SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS

Notes—deep-toned, startling hoot.

Heard most frequently at nesting time.

Upper parts brown, marked with white—face gray, mottled with black, wings and tail barred with brown, eyes blue black, bill yellow, under parts buff marked with darker, legs and feet feathered, bill and claws dark, hooked, strong.

Feeds on chicken, mice, etc.

Usually take an old crow's or woodpecker's nest for their own use—rarely make nests for themselves. Nest very early in the season, young being sometimes ready to fly early in March.