“The Lark is but a bumpkin fowl;
He sleeps in his nest till morn;
But my blessing upon the jolly Owl
That all night blows his horn.”

CURIOUS name for a bird, we are inclined to say when we meet with it for the first time, but when we hear its shrill, rasping call note, uttered perhaps at midnight, we admit the appropriateness of “saw-whet.” It resembles the sound made when a large-toothed saw is being filed.

Mr. Goss says that the natural home of this sprightly little Owl is within the wild woodlands, though it is occasionally found about farm houses and even cities. According to Mr. Nelson, it is of frequent occurrence in Chicago, where, upon some of the most frequented streets in the residence portion of the city, a dozen specimens have been taken within two years. It is very shy and retiring in its habits, however, rarely leaving its secluded retreats until late at eve, for which reason it is doubtless much more common throughout its range than is generally supposed. It is not migratory but is more or less of an irregular wanderer in search of food during the autumn and winter. It may be quite common in a locality and then not be seen again for several years. It is nocturnal, seldom moving about in the day time, but passing the time in sleeping in some dark retreat; and so soundly does it sleep that ofttimes it may be captured alive.

The flight of the Saw-whet so closely resembles that of the Woodcock that it has been killed by sportsmen, when flying over the alders, through being mistaken for the game bird.

These birds nest in old deserted squirrel or Woodpecker holes and small hollows in trees. The eggs—usually four—are laid on the rotten wood or decayed material at the bottom. They are white and nearly round.

In spite of the societies formed to prevent the killing of birds for ornamenting millinery, and the thousands of signatures affixed to the numerous petitions sent broadcast all over the country, in which women pledged themselves not to wear birds or feathers of any kind on their hats, this is essentially a bird killing year, and the favorite of all the feathers is that of the Owl. There is an old superstition about him too. He has always been considered an unlucky bird, and many persons will not have one in the house. He may, says a recent writer, like the Peacock, lose his unlucky prestige, now that Dame Fashion has stamped him with her approval. Li Hung Chang rescued the Peacock feather from the odium of ill luck, and hundreds of persons bought them after his visit who would never permit them to be taken inside their homes prior to it. So the Owl seems to have lost his ill luck since fair woman has decided that the Owl hat is “the thing.”

The small size of the Saw-whet and absence of ears, at once distinguish this species from any Owl of eastern North America, except Richardson’s, which has the head and back spotted with white, and legs barred with grayish-brown.