As I paddle under the Hemlock bank this cloudy afternoon, about 3 o’clock, I see a screech owl sitting on the edge of a hollow hemlock stump about three feet high, at the base of a large hemlock.
It sits with its head drawn in, eying me, with its eyes partly open, about twenty feet off.
When it hears me move, it turns its head toward me, perhaps one eye only open, with its great glaring golden iris. You see two whitish triangular lines above the eyes meeting at the bill, with a sharp reddish-brown triangle between and a narrow curved line of black under each eye.
At this distance and in this light, you see only a black spot where the eye is, and the question is whether the eyes are open or not.
It sits on the lee side of the tree this raw and windy day. You would say that this was a bird without a neck. Its short bill, which rests upon its breast, scarcely projects at all, but in a state of rest the whole upper part of the bird from the wings is rounded off smoothly, excepting the horns, which stand up conspicuously or are slanted back.
After watching it ten minutes from the boat, I land two rods above, and, stealing quietly up behind the hemlock, though from the windward, I look carefully around it, and, to my surprise, see the owl still sitting there.
So I spring round quickly, with my arm outstretched, and catch it in my hand.
It is so surprised that it offers no resistance at first, only glares at me in mute astonishment with eyes as big as saucers. But ere long it begins to snap its bill, making quite a noise, and, as I roll it up in my handkerchief and put it in my pocket, it bites my finger slightly.
I soon take it out of my pocket and, tying the handkerchief, leave it on the bottom of the boat. So I carry it home and made a small cage in which to keep it, for a night.
General color of the owl a rather pale and perhaps slightly reddish brown, the feathers centred with black. Perches with two claws above and two below the perch. It is a slight body, covered with a mass of soft and light-lying feathers. Its head muffled in a great hood. It must be quite comfortable in winter.
Dropped a pellet of fur and bones in his cage. He sat, not really moping but trying to sleep, in a corner of his box all day, yet with one or both eyes slightly open all the while. Ordinarily stood rather than sat on his perch.
I never once caught him with his eyes shut.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 28, 1855
It sits with its head drawn in, eying me, with its eyes partly open, about twenty feet off.
When it hears me move, it turns its head toward me, perhaps one eye only open, with its great glaring golden iris. You see two whitish triangular lines above the eyes meeting at the bill, with a sharp reddish-brown triangle between and a narrow curved line of black under each eye.
At this distance and in this light, you see only a black spot where the eye is, and the question is whether the eyes are open or not.
It sits on the lee side of the tree this raw and windy day. You would say that this was a bird without a neck. Its short bill, which rests upon its breast, scarcely projects at all, but in a state of rest the whole upper part of the bird from the wings is rounded off smoothly, excepting the horns, which stand up conspicuously or are slanted back.
After watching it ten minutes from the boat, I land two rods above, and, stealing quietly up behind the hemlock, though from the windward, I look carefully around it, and, to my surprise, see the owl still sitting there.
So I spring round quickly, with my arm outstretched, and catch it in my hand.
It is so surprised that it offers no resistance at first, only glares at me in mute astonishment with eyes as big as saucers. But ere long it begins to snap its bill, making quite a noise, and, as I roll it up in my handkerchief and put it in my pocket, it bites my finger slightly.
I soon take it out of my pocket and, tying the handkerchief, leave it on the bottom of the boat. So I carry it home and made a small cage in which to keep it, for a night.
General color of the owl a rather pale and perhaps slightly reddish brown, the feathers centred with black. Perches with two claws above and two below the perch. It is a slight body, covered with a mass of soft and light-lying feathers. Its head muffled in a great hood. It must be quite comfortable in winter.
Dropped a pellet of fur and bones in his cage. He sat, not really moping but trying to sleep, in a corner of his box all day, yet with one or both eyes slightly open all the while. Ordinarily stood rather than sat on his perch.
I never once caught him with his eyes shut.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 28, 1855
No comments:
Post a Comment