The San Francisco call., 1897-04-04

had never before seen these birds In flight
save at such distance below them tnat
they looked like mere specks against the
sky; but this time there was a full min ute
during which l watched their backs as
they circied up the air. They seemed to
use their wings more than is apparent
when they are seen from below, but this
was probably because they were not soar
ing as in the upper air, but climbing al
most directly upward, with quick strokes
of their broad piDions. which spread out
a full yard from tip TO tip as they flew.
They were handsome pair, for pair
judged them to be. Looking through the
of the dead tree below a dark mass, which
was, in all probability. their nest.
The hawks may have been looking for
ground squirrels. The stony hilltop was
r;ddled with openings into the burrows of
these little creatures. and at one such
opening on a sheltered slope, summing
himself and blinking in the bright light,
l saw a small, light brown spotted owl.
| got a good look at him before he saw
me ana retired, very politely, backward
into the hole. The disappearance had
really funny air of extreme courtesy.
The small bird seemed very much at
home, and possibly the squirrel hole may
have been an abandoned one into which
he had moved and set up housekeeping,
or he may have been visiting there, as
these owls sometimes seem to do, sojourn-
ing for season and even going so far as
to make an occasional meal off their en-
tertainer's young family.
Owls, to a bird, are rather inclined to
Incidence and love ease better than they
love the labor of acquiring il by their own
exertions, and so it often happens that we
see them established in the deserted quar-
ters OF other birds and animals. An owl
of my acquaintance used TO live in wood
pecker's hole in redwood tree, and an
other dwelt in rats nest in the barnloft,
making his exits and his entrances through
a hole the rodents had gnawed in the wall
During heavy weather, if caught abroad,
they take refuge in all sorts of queer
places. One morning. after an unex-
pected snowstorm, year ago, l found
pretty little hornet owl in my stove. He
probably sought shelter in the chimney,
and, falling through the fiue, fluttered
down the pipe. He seemed not at all
alarmed when discovered, but sprang out
and sat quietly upon the floor until 1
opened the door, when he few forth into a
tree. Doubtless, however, he had great
tales to tell b is comrades of his remarka-
able adventure.
Securing my violets I wended my way
around the hill, minded to cross a canyon
and climb an opposite eminence where.
in the distance. l could see a familiar
looking range of fringing trees CHM bing
the slope. We human beings are not so
clever as the bees These little creatures
can take their bearings from the densely
growing tops of forest trees and fly
straight home across them. while we
must laboriousiy blaze ways and make
trails, and If. peradventure, we cross a
hilltop or ravine and let down one pair
of bars rather than another, we are lost,
forsooth, and must needs go about making
a great to-do, until haply we find onr-
selves again. Sometimes. as a matter of
fact. We are lost and never know it, wan
dering footlooss among the valleys and
mountains and deep canyons of theory
and speculation. calmly confident that We
are going somewhere. 1t is only once in
a while that dim suspicion visits US as
10 whether we are after all on the right
track. Ten to one if, then, we do not
stop, look about US bit, rub our mental
eyes, say hence We infer" and start on
again.
I've lived, now. some good sized num-
Der of years in this world, and the chief
est conclusion have come 10 is that the
great majority Of us have but a vague
idea of our whereabouts. I question if
one out OF five hundred of US has any
definite purpose and goal in the full
fllment of which he is steadily NOV
ing and acting. We know the purposes,
the goals We want to have in view; per-
haps we know those we ought to have,