Egyptian Birds. Charles Whymper
in a recent work on Egypt this owl is called the Horned Owl).
The Barn Owl has practically a world-wide range, being found not only in Europe but Africa, Asia, Australia, and America, and though examples from certain localities do show some variation in plumage, it is still always unmistakably the Barn Owl. It
is, however, not met with within the Arctic Circle. At home its food is nearly entirely mice, but in Egypt it has no hedgerows to hunt, no large farmyards and rich granaries, and though it does get some mice it has to take lizards, an occasional small bird, and sometimes fish, or even scraps of carrion.
Of all the owls this has the softest, most silent flight, and this in itself is somewhat uncanny as it quite quietly passes close to you, and then disappears in the gloom, from which a little later may come a terrifying screech as of a strangled infant. There is little room for wonder, then, that all simple folk should have regarded this bird as evil-omened: and the old Scriptures have many references in this spirit when describing places haunted, desolated, the “abode of owls and dragons.” To this day, in our own country, the feeling is evinced most strangely in spite of all our modern education. Very cleverly the early Egyptians caught the most salient feature—the extraordinary large mask-like face—and in some of the wall decorations at Deir-el-Bahari, which are in perfect preservation, it would be well-nigh impossible to improve on them as exact portraits of the Barn Owl. A possible cause of the choice of this bird is that it is one of the best-known species: for of all the owls this one is quite peculiar in its habit of rather courting than flying from the haunts of man; for though it is in the ruins of temples it is also to be found in the thick foliage near villages and towns, and has even been noticed flying about in the very heart of Cairo in the Ezbekeir Gardens, as recorded by Mr. J. H. Gurney in his Rambles of a Naturalist—and the habit of attaching itself to human habitations is universal wherever it is met the world round.
The Barn Owl has a custom which those who suffer from indigestion may well envy, and that is its power of disgorging, after every meal, all the indigestible portions of its dinner in a compact, round, hard pellet, about the size of a nut: and from under some of its roosting-places great basketsfull of these pellets have been collected, and men of science analyzing these have obtained therefrom the most precise information as to the diet of this much-persecuted bird. From such observations the value of its services in our own country were rather tardily recognised. But now that it is established that nine-tenths of its food consists of mice and rats, the law of the land has been invoked to protect it. Lord Lilford writes on the extraordinary appetite of young owls, that “I have seen a young Barn Owl take down nine full-grown mice one after another till the tail of the ninth stuck out of his mouth, and in three hours’ time the young ‘gourmand’ was crying out for more.”
THE LITTLE OWL
Carine meridionalis
Plumage—A plain greyish-brown with dark markings and spots on the breast; eyes yellow. Entire length, 8·5 inches.
THE Little Owl is a common bird, but it is not, when flying, very owl-like in appearance; and doubtless it is very often seen and not recognised as an owl at all, especially as it flies freely in the daytime, and I have even seen it sitting facing the sun on some wooden trellis-work in a garden at mid-day; and not only once, but morning after morning it could be seen enjoying the warmth. This peculiarity, the very opposite of what we find in most owls, has led to an awkward position in some parts of England—for in certain of the Midland counties this owl is rapidly becoming a perfect scourge. Some distinguished naturalists in Northamptonshire and other counties thought it would be good to introduce this undoubtedly rather fascinating bird from the Continent—where it is common—into the British Isles—where it was very rare—so year after year
they obtained large numbers of these owls, and liberated them in the hope that they would breed and multiply. Their hopes have been more than justified, for they did at once settle down and increase; they passed first from the county they were liberated in to the adjoining county of Huntingdon; then, spreading over that, they extended their area into Cambridgeshire, then on into Suffolk, Essex, Norfolk. Every one was at first delighted, and keepers were given strict injunctions on no account to worry the newcomers; but gradually the keepers’ faces began to get long, and first one and then another reported strange stories of depleted coops shortly after the foster-hen was put out into the open with her family of ten or more young birds. Ornithologists were scandalised at these stories—an owl take a young game-bird: impossible!—but what is impossible in the eyes of men of science has turned out to be a fact, and this charming-looking Little Owl is found to be one of the worst vermin on the whole list which vexes the soul of the game preserver. For it is just this, that at the very time the young pheasants or hand-reared partridges are put out, the Little Owl has its own little family to feed; the foster-mother, the hen, being always kept shut in the coop, the little puff-balls of pheasants, as they are in those early days, run in and out between the bars, and once outside are, of course, without protection. The Owl has noticed this fact, and it may be seen sitting on the top of the coop watching till one of the little birds is conveniently near, and down it swoops and carries it away for its own family’s dinner; this it will repeat time after time till it has cleared off the whole lot. This can only happen, of course, when the young pheasants are very very small—a few days old—and hand-reared, for if they were out and about with their own mother—or in the case of partridges their own father—they would be safe, as neither would allow such an impudent attack to be made without going for the murderous marauder. It has only been after years and years of persistent effort that gamekeepers have been induced to learn that all ordinary owls flying at night-time—when all young birds are safe under their mothers’ wings—are harmless, and that from the good they do in clearing off hundreds of mice and young rats, should be, and must be, protected. They are now protected; but this newcomer arrives—not an ordinary night owl at all—and the whole position is changed, and years of teaching will be thrown to the winds, as it will be hard indeed to persuade the average thick-headed keeper that he was not right all along, and that every owl of every sort ought to be shot at sight and nailed to the pole. So much for benevolent intentions of increasing the variety of a country’s fauna. Nearly always it is best not to interfere with Nature’s order, and the rabbit pest in Australia, and the sparrows in America, are already known to most as illustrations of this fact.
The Little Owl makes a quaint pet, and thrives well in confinement; its antics and poses are really droll, and the big eyes look at you with a seeming deep intelligence. This is the owl, by the way, that by the ancient Greeks, was made sacred to Pallas Athene and used as a symbol of wisdom; furthermore, it was engraved on many of their coins.
In Egypt it is everywhere—in town and country, in ruined temples, dismal tombs, and gardens bright with flowers and sunshine. I have seen it sitting on the upright poles of shadoofs, and on the tops of high stalks of growing maize, and once I saw it, in broad daylight, on the back of a recumbent buffalo.
EGYPTIAN EAGLE OWL
Bubo ascalaphus
Arabic, Buma