EXIT FORTESCUE, MUTTERING
John O'Reilly's brief story, Don't Be Afraid of the Screech Owl (SI, Nov. 14), touched responsive chords in the hearts of our family. Several years ago we found a baby screech owl lying beneath an oak tree on our lawn. He was a tiny bit of white fluff when we found him, but when he left us he had grown to maturity. We named him Fortescue.
It took some time to get his daily food. His chief diet was earthworms, and this requires constant digging. We were more than repaid for our labors because he taught us much about himself and the woods. As soon as he learned to fly, we put him out at night. It was never too difficult to locate him the following morning, since the blue jays invariably found his place of hiding and called loudly to their fellows while they flew about him, excitedly prepared to mob him if he ventured to fly from them. We would find him settled on the branch of a camellia or an azalea bush, muttering quietly to himself the soft liquid notes Mr. O'Reilly describes.
One night he flew away, never to return. Now, whenever we hear the song of the screech owl, we think it may be Fortescue come back to serenade us.
C. M. A. ROGERS
Apropos of "Electronic Quack" (E & D Nov. 7) I think it is quite possible if the world's technicians do not succeed in destroying themselves and us and the animal kingdom, that some quack technician may come up with a definite device where-by not only can the ducks be called electronically to the blind but the sportsman who owns the blind may even be able to stay snugly at home while the other electronic devices aim and fire the rampart guns at the ignorant, nontechnical ducks. But beware lest the word "sports" in your title come to mean only unathletic personalities instead of the wholesome athletic activities it stands for now.
THE BARD ON PUTTING
Shakespeare puts it more concisely than Nobel Chalfant did when he advised SI readers to putt without too much delay (TIP FROM THE TOP, NOV. 7):
If it were done when 'tis done,
then 'twere well
It were done quickly;
—Macbeth, Act. 1, Scene 7
F. N. MCCARTHY
LETTER FROM A SILENT MAN
How come Jimmy Jemail, in preparing his HOTBOX of Nov. 14, didn't consult a golf-course superintendent about the use of motorized carts on the course? In most cases the bartender gets more credit for making a bottle of Vermouth last a year and a half than the greenskeeper gets for keeping a couple of hundred acres of grass in good playing condition for the many species of golfer. Ten times out of 10 a good golf course has one silent man who, before he goes to bed at night, makes sure the golf course is ready for play tomorrow. This silent man is, naturally, the golf course superintendent.
Hope Happy Knoll limits carts (motorized) to those with a doctor's prescription.
Enclosed is my subscription for 1956 membership at Happy Knoll to go to the Olympic Fund.
LEWIS T. F. WOGAN
ASK YOUR CADDY
Why don't you ask some caddies how they feel about motorized carts? Since the appearance of the cart on the courses, the days of the caddy are numbered.