We know not alway
Who are kings by day,
But the king of the night is the bold brown owl!

I wonder why the folks put my picture last in the book. It can’t be because they don’t like me, for I’m sure I never bother them. I don’t eat the farmer’s corn like the crow, and no one ever saw me quarrel with other birds.

Maybe it is because I can’t sing. Well, there are lots of good people that can’t sing, and so there are lots of good birds that can’t sing.

Did you ever see any other bird sit up as straight as I do? I couldn’t sit up so straight if I hadn’t such long, sharp claws to hold on with.

My home is in the woods. Here we owls build our nests—most always in hollow trees.

During the day I stay in the nest or sit on a limb. I don’t like day time for the light hurts my eyes, but when it begins to grow dark then I like to stir around. All night long I am wide awake and fly about getting food for my little hungry ones. They sleep most of the day and it keeps me busy nearly all night to find them enough to eat.

I just finished my night’s work when the man came to take my picture. It was getting light and I told him to go to a large stump on the edge of the woods and I would sit for my picture. So here I am. Don’t you think I look wise? How do you like my large eyes? If I could smile at you I would, but my face always looks sober. I have a great many cousins and if you really like my picture, I’ll have some of them talk to you next month. I don’t think any of them have such pretty feathers though. Just see if they have when they come.

Well, I must fly back to my perch in the old elm tree. Good-bye.