Page:Condor16(2).djvu/12

 56 THE CONDOR Vol. XVI would be a decided help if we could have a law that would impose a slight fine on the fumigator for every bird so killed,--merely a nominal sum, say five cents a bird. This would be sufficient to make the workmen swing a lantern in among. the foliage and shake the tree gently in rder to scare out the feathered lodgers. In order to obtain results, it would of course be necessary for a warden to make occasional and unexpected visits to the orange groves during the fall of the year. Cona, California, January 7, 94 AN ASIONINE RUSE By WILLIAM LEON DAWSON N her excellent article, "With Asio in the Greenwood", in a recent number of Bird-Lore, Florence Merriam Bailey describes the behavior of a Long-eared Owl which she had been watching closely for some time in the vicinity of its nest. The old Owl stood guard so quietly one afternoon that she seemed on the p6int of going to sleep. "The next moment", Mrs. Bailey records, "to my great astonishment, she darted to the ground as swiftly as a Kingfisher dives for a fish he has been carefully locating from above. A shriek--and then a silence! Up she flew surrounded by a noisy mob of Bronzed Grackles, three Orioles and a Blue Jay. When the excitement. had sbsided a little the Blue Jay flew off with a sad reflective cry", due to .the proximity of her own brood. "And yet", concludes Mrs. Bailey, "the victim was probably a wood mouse, or some such small vermin". This episode reminds the writer of an experience enjoyed by him while in camp on the banks of the Walla Walla River in Washington--May 3rd, x9o7, it Was-- and a recital of the circumstances may possibly, although not certainly, throw some light on the identity of Mrs. Bailey's "mouse". I was seated at a height of twelve or fifteen feet from the ground in a willow tree beside a nest of young Long-eared Owls,--one of a line of four nests which I had been watching for several days. The youngsters were "freezing" faithfully, as usual, all except the runt, which still favored the cowering pose. The male parent had delivered himself of a series of quaint execrations, "Morach moraaaouw, erek werck wraaow; wreck wraaa", and had quitted the scene in disgust. The female had caterwauled and cajoled and exploded and entreated by turns, all in vain. Matters seemed to have reached an impasse, and silence had fallen over the landscape. I had time to note the sage-pinks bright with morn- ing dew, and the subtle, soothing gray-greens of the sage itself, as it rose in bib lows over the slopes of the closely-investing hills. All of a sudden the Owl left her perch, flew to some distance, and pounced upon the ground, where she could not well be seen through the intervening foliage. Upon the instant of the pounce arose the piercing cries of a creature in distress, and I, supposing that the bird, in anger, had fallen upon a harmless Flicker, which I knew dwelt in that neck of the woods, scrambled down instanter and hurried forward. The prompt binocu- lars revealed neither Flicker nor mouse. There was nothing whatever in the Owl's talons. The victor and the victim were one and the same, and I was the dupe. Yet so completely vOas the play carried out that the bird fluttered her wings and trod vigorously with a rocking motion, as though sinking her talons deeply into a victim. I was astonished. Nor should I believe the evidence of my eyes to this day if I had not witnessed the same play repeatedly thereafter. The Owl