Bubo virginianus. Lake Umbagog, Maine. 1897. Sept. 7. Just as the sun was sinking behind the high ridge to the of Whales Back Cove, where Will Sargent and I were lying in wait for Ducks, westward a Great Horned Owl began making the peculiar, husky, Jay-like scream which, as far as I am aware, is heard only in late summer and early autumn and which the guides here say is characteristic of the young of this species. At first the cry seemed to come from some distance off in the stub forest and was given at long intervals but presently the bird came near- er and called much more frequently. At length it appeared one hundred within about 100 yards of us and half a minute later it was joined by another, either its mate or, as Will thought, anoth- brood er bird of the same bird. Both birds looked unusually small but as far as I could make out their plumage was fully matured. Certainly they were strong on the wing and their "horns" ap- peared to be of the usual length. They kept moving from place to place by short flights, sometimes alighting on the tops of the dead trees but ordinarily choosing a perch on some short lateral prong about half-way up the tree. Sometimes one would follow the other closely, often alighting within a yard or two of it on the same tree or even the same branch. At other times they would separate and range about independently. Whenever this happened the calling would be kept up by both until they came together again. I repeatedly saw them utter this cry. They opened their their heads, The mouth was opened very wide and the head lowered each time