husband and fond father. Rarely will you see him twenty yards from his spouse. If she flies across the garden to another tree, he waits a few seconds, then flies across too and sits by her side. And never will you see a third in the party, except it be their own olive branches, of which there may be four. These appear about April, and are the drollest little beings imaginable. They all live happily together in a hole in some old tree, and if you tap the tree at any hour of the day, a puzzled, round face will appear at the hole and ask more plainly than in words what you want. Then the owner of the face will dart out and sit on a branch and begin bowing to you with sarcastic effect. A hole in the roof of the house, or anywhere else, will do as well as one in a tree, if it is roomy and comfortable. The Owlet is very promiscuous in its diet. I have seen it hawking flying ants from its perch on a telegraph wire, darting out after them and catching them in its feet, and if a mouse or a lizzard goes by, it will treat that in the same way. Mr. Steuart Baker says that it kills little bats, not catching them on the wing, but pulling them out of their hiding places.
Besides these two species it is not unlikely that the great, horned, Fish Owl (Ketupa Ceylonensis) may be seen in Bombay about such places as Worlee or Sion, but I have never met with it. It is called the Fish Owl because it is generally found near water and is supposed to feed principally on fish and frogs and crabs, but I have seen one stoop on a hare. It had actually clutched the hare when my appearance diverted it. It has a ghostly hoot, a hoo, hoo-hoo, far-reaching but coming from nowhere in particular. When it
