Blacky's heart beat fast with excitement as he drew near that old
tumble-down nest. Would those two big white eggs be there? Perhaps
there would be three! The very thought made him flap his wings a
little faster. A few more wing strokes and he would be right over
the tree. How he did hope to see those eggs! He could almost see
into the nest now. One stroke! Two strokes! Three strokes! Blacky
bit his tongue to keep from giving a sharp caw of disappointment and
surprise.
There were no eggs to be seen. No, Sir, there wasn't a sign of eggs
in that old nest. There wasn't because -- why, do you think? There
wasn't because Blacky looked straight down on a great mass of
feathers which quite covered them from sight, and he didn't have to
look twice to know that that great mass of feathers was really a
great bird, the bird to whom those eggs belonged.
Blacky didn't turn to come back as he had planned. He kept right on,
just as if he hadn't seen anything, and as he flew he shivered a
little. He shivered at the thought of what might have happened to
him if he had tried to steal those eggs the day before and had been
caught doing it.
"I'm thankful I knew enough to leave them alone, " said he. "Funny I
never once guessed whose eggs they are. I might have known that no
one but Hooty the Horned Owl would think of nesting at this time of
year. And that was Mrs. Hooty I saw on the nest just now. My, but
she's big! She's bigger than Hooty himself! Yes, Sir, it's a lucky
thing I didn't try to get those eggs yesterday.
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