. The Oist . s out of their holes, and reachwith my rifle some specimens beyondthe ranjste of his shot-gun. I have al-ways felt cause for gratitude that weAvere not all poisoned by the arsenic heused in preserving his skins—for theskins went to his collection, and thecarcasses into the pot invariably.—Chicago Field. —Birds Catching Fish. The eccentricChailes Waterton probably had a morethorough experience with the BarnOwl than any other ornithologist; hewrites of this owl as follows :— Thisbird has been known to catch years ago, on a fine evening inthe month of July, long before it w
. The Oist . s out of their holes, and reachwith my rifle some specimens beyondthe ranjste of his shot-gun. I have al-ways felt cause for gratitude that weAvere not all poisoned by the arsenic heused in preserving his skins—for theskins went to his collection, and thecarcasses into the pot invariably.—Chicago Field. —Birds Catching Fish. The eccentricChailes Waterton probably had a morethorough experience with the BarnOwl than any other ornithologist; hewrites of this owl as follows :— Thisbird has been known to catch years ago, on a fine evening inthe month of July, long before it wasdawn, as I was standing on the middleof the bridge, and timing the Owl bymy watch as it brought mice to itsnest, all of a sudden it drc-pped per-pendicularly into the water. Thinkingthat it had fallen down in epilepsy myfirst thoughts were to go and fetch theboat: but, beft)re I had well got to theend of the bridge, I saw the owl riseout of the water with a fish in itsclaws, and take it to the OlogiSTi DECEMBER, 1880. No. 10. The Sandpiper. Aiross the narrow beach we flit, One little Sand) i or and IAnd la>t I trather 1 it l)y l)it, The scattered drift-wood l)leacheil and dry,The wihl waves reach their hand for it. The wild wind raves, tlie tide runs highAs up and down tlu beach we flit. One liltte Sandpiper and I. Above our heads the sullen clouds. Scud black and swift across the silent ghosts in misty shrouds, Stand out the white light-house as far as eye can reach, I see the close-reefed vessels fast we flit along the beach, One little Sandpiper and I. I watch him as he skims along Uttering his sweit and mournful cry,He starts not at my fitful song, Oi flash of flutt-ring has no thougiit >>i any wrong. He scans me \\itli a fearless triemls arc wc, well tried and strong, The little Sandpiper and 1. Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, When tile loosed i?torm breaks furiously?My drift wood fire will
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectbirds, bookyear1875
