Then the great claws did
their work. When I straightened up from my thicket, Kookooskoos was
standing on his game, tearing off the flesh with his feet, and
carrying it up to his mouth with the same movement, swallowing
everything alike, as if famished.
Over them the squirrel, which had whisked up a tree at the first
alarm, was peeking with evil eyes over the edge of a limb, snickering
at the blood-stained snow and the dead cat, scolding, barking,
threatening the owl for having disturbed the search for his stolen
walnuts.
I caught that same owl soon after in a peculiar way. A farmer near by
told me that an owl was taking his chickens regularly. Undoubtedly the
bird had been driven southward by the severe winter, and had not taken
up regular hunting grounds until he caught the cat. Then came the
chickens. I set up a pole, on the top of which was nailed a bit of
board for a platform. On the platform was fastened a small steel trap,
and under it hung a dead chicken. The next morning there was
Kookooskoos on the platform, one foot in the trap, at which he was
pulling awkwardly.
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