Birds and All Nature, Vol. V, No. 4, April 1899. Various

"If my girls had no more sense than she, I'd strip every feather off 'em and keep 'em at home, I would!"

      "She makes me sick," said a pert young thing in the group. "Perfection indeed! Why, when she laughs I'm always uneasy for fear her face will disappear down her throat. Such a mouth!"

      "Hubby," mimicked another, "I thought I should collapse when she said that with her sickening simper."

      "Well, well," smilingly said an old mother sparrow, "she'll sing another song before long. I predict she'll be a shiftless sort of a thing when it comes to housekeeping. Mr. Britisher will repent him of his bargain ere many days, mark my words! Dearie," turning to her only daughter, "sing that dear little note you learned of Mr. Lark for the company. Thank heaven," stroking her darling's ugly feathers, "I have my precious child still with me. She is not in a hurry to leave her poor mamma, is she?"

      Many sly winks and smiles were exchanged among the matron's friends at this remark, for "dearie" had chirped that little note many summers and winters, and many a snare had mother and daughter set to entrap the sons of more than one lady sparrow there.

      "My dear," said Mr. Britisher the very next morning, "we must begin to build a nest and make a home like other people. I think we may as well begin to-day."

      "Build our nest?" responded Mrs. B. "Well, do as you think best, my dear. I intend to make a few calls to-day, so you may as well employ your time whilst I am away. I presume some of your folks will help you."

      "I suppose nothing of the sort," replied Mr. B., curtly. "Do you think you are to do nothing but make calls from morning till night? I chose you for a helpmate, madam, and not a figurehead, let me tell you, and the sooner you settle down to your duties the better it will be for us both."

      "Duties?" retorted Mrs. B., "the idea! Who was it that promised me that if I would marry him I should not have a care in the world?"

      "Oh, all lovers say such things," replied Mr. B., with a contemptuous laugh. "They expect their lady-loves to have better sense than to believe them."

      "Better sense than to believe them!" repeated Mrs. B., angrily. "So you admit your sex are all gay deceivers, do you? Oh, dear," tears coursing down her pretty feathered cheeks, "that I should be brought to this! Woe is me, woe is me!"

      Mr. Britisher immediately flew to her side, and by caresses and fond words endeavored to tranquillize his spouse, for what husband can look upon the first tears of his bride and not upbraid himself for bringing a cloud over the heaven of her smiles?

      Mrs. B. flew and hopped about with her wonted gaiety the remainder of the day, whilst Mr. B.'s preoccupation and downcast air was the cause of much comment and many wise "I told you so's," among the old lady-birds of the neighborhood.

      The subject of nest-building was, of course, next day resumed; but Mrs. B. proved as indifferent and indisposed to participate in the labor as ever.

      "Very well," said Mr. B., at last, resolutely disregarding her tears, "you will do as other wives do or else return to your mother. When a sparrow marries he expects his mate to do her share in making a home, and rearing a family. There is something to do in this world, madame, besides rollicking, singing, and visiting from post to pillar. Indeed, it is a wild scramble we have to make for a living, and you can no longer expect me to be furnishing you with tid-bits and insects out of season, while you gossip and idle your time away. You will have to-day to decide upon the matter," and off Mr. Britisher flew, with a heavy frown upon his face.

      "Oh! I wish I had never been born," wailed Mrs. B., as the gentle wind stirred the leaves and swayed the branch upon which she was perched. "Already I begin to experience the troubles which old folks talk about. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I'll fly over to mother and tell her how shamefully Mr. B. is treating me. I won't stand it, there! Gracious! there is that meddlesome Mr. Blue Jay sneaking around as usual. He has heard me sobbing, I'm afraid, and all the neighbors will be gossiping before night of our affairs. There! how cheerily I sang when I flew off! He will think my sobs were a new song, perhaps. To think that I should be making believe I'm happy already. Happy! I shall never be happy again. My heart is broken. Mother will give Mr. Britisher a piece of her mind, I hope, and let him know I was never brought up to work, much less to be any man's slave."

(To be concluded.)

      THE AMERICAN BARN OWL

(Strix pratincola)LYNDS JONES

      OUR barn owl belongs to the tropical and warm temperate genus Strix, which is scattered widely over the greater part of the earth in the tropical and subtropical parts of both hemispheres, and scatteringly into the temperate zones. In Europe one species is common as far north as the British Isles, while our own bird is found as far north as southern New England in the East, Ontario, Michigan, Wisconsin, and southern Minnesota in the interior, and Oregon and Washington on the Pacific coast. It is hardly common anywhere except in the extreme southwestern part of the United States, where it is the most abundant owl in California. It is rare or casual north of about the fortieth parallel. But two specimens have been brought to the Oberlin College Museum in twenty years, one of which was found dead in a barn a mile east of Oberlin in December of 1898.

      The barn owl is the most nocturnal of all our owls, although he can see perfectly in the brightest day. Not until twilight does he issue from his secure hiding-place to do battle with the farm and orchard pests. Then he may be seen sailing noiselessly over orchard and meadow in quest of any mischievous rodent that may be menacing the farmer's prospects. He seems to single out intelligently the ones that do the most injury, destroying large numbers of pouched gophers and other annoying and destructive creatures, asking only in return to be left in peace in his hiding-place. The farmer certainly has no better friend than this owl, for he destroys poultry only when driven to it by the direst necessity. In the East, his food consists largely of rats and mice; in some parts of the South the cotton rat is the chief diet; while in the West he feeds principally upon the gopher (Thomomys talpoides bulbivorus) and the California ground squirrel (Spermophilus grammurus beecheyi), according to Prof. B. W. Evermann. It seems pretty certain that fish are sometimes captured and eaten.

      This owl undoubtedly breeds, though sparingly, in all suitable localities wherever it is found, and probably migrates more or less in the northern part of its range. In Europe it nests in old ruins, towers, and abutments of bridges, but our American species finds few such places, so he resorts to hollow trees, caves, crevices in rocks, and banks, and even to burrows in the level ground, as we find to be the case in parts of the West. The burrows are undoubtedly the deserted burrows of some other animal. In the eastern parts of the country the owls frequently nest in buildings. It is well known that a pair occupied one of the towers of the Smithsonian building in the city of Washington in 1890, raising a brood of seven young. It is stated that the period of incubation is from three to three and a half weeks, and that brooding begins with the deposit of the first egg; thus there may be fresh eggs and young in the same nest. This accounts for the long period of incubation.

      The eggs are pure white, usually from four to seven in number, rarely twelve. They are rather longer in proportion than those of the other owls – in about the proportion of 1.30 × 1.70. But the average size is variously given by the various authors.

      It seems a little curious that there should be such a marked difference between the hawks and owls as regards nest material. They belong to the same order of birds, and yet the hawks build their own nests, collecting the material and arranging it much after the fashion of higher birds, while the owls make practically no nest, at the most collecting a little material and scattering it about with little regard for arrangement. But the difficulty disappears when we realize that the owls have probably always nested in hollows which require no nest material, while the hawks, if they ever nested in hollows, have long ceased to do so, building their nests among the branches of trees, where a relatively large amount of material is necessary. The few species of hawks which now nest in hollows have gone back to that method after a long period of open nesting and have retained the nest material even here where it seems unnecessary.

      The monkey-like appearance of this owl, emphasized by his tawny color and screeching voice, gives him a decidedly uncanny appearance. His plumage is unusually soft and fluffy, but is too thin to enable him to withstand the rigors of a northern winter. Curiously enough, the feathers