The next afternoon I was back in the big woods to investigate. Fifty
feet behind the thicket where I had been struck was a tall dead stub
overlooking a little clearing. "That's his watch tower," I thought.
"While I was watching the deer, he was up there watching my head, and
when it moved he swooped."
I had no intention of giving him another flight at the same game, but
hid my fur cap some distance out in the clearing, tied a long string
to it, went back into the thicket with the other end of the string,
and sat down to wait. A low _Whooo-hoo-hoo!_ came from across the
valley to tell me I was not the only watcher in the woods.
Towards dusk I noticed suddenly that the top of the old stub looked a
bit peculiar, but it was some time before I made out a big owl sitting
up there. I had no idea how long he had been there, nor whence he
came. His back was towards me; he sat up very straight and still, so
as to make himself just a piece, the tip end, of the stub. As I
watched, he hooted once and bent forward to listen.
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