In the midst, quite smothered under their larger wings, were the remains of a smaller bird--probably a merlin.

But the last and lowest row, that was also nearest, or on a level with the face of a person looking at the gallows, was the most striking.
This grand tier was crowded with owls--not arranged in any order, but haphazard, causing a fine mixture of colour.

Clearly this gallery was constantly renewed.

The white owl gave the prevalent tint, side by side with the brown wood owls, and scattered among the rest, a few long horned owls--a mingling of white, yellowish brown, and tawny feathers.
Though numerous here, yet trap and gun have so reduced the wood owls that you may listen half the night by a cover and never hear the 'Who-hoo' that seems to demand your name.
The barn owls are more liable to be shot, because they are more conspicuous; but, on the other hand, as they often breed and reside away from covers, they seem to escape.

For months past one of these has sailed by my window every evening uttering a hissing 'skir-r-r.' Here, some were nailed with their backs to the wall, that they might not hide their guilty faces.
The delicate texture of the owl's feathers is very remarkable: these birds remind me of a huge moth.