142 ANIMAL LIFE OF CARLSBAD CAVERN 



surmised by the pellets and small bones which strew 

 the ground wherever they nest or roost. 



Down by the river a pair of horned owls had a nest 

 in the crack of a bold cliff above the river bank. On 

 March 25 there were three snow-white downy young, 

 only a few days old, with big, wobbly heads, blinking 

 eyes, strong legs, and hooked claws, already useful in 

 clinging to the nest and rocks. The mother bird was 

 covering them with her warm breast feathers and re- 

 fused to leave until I came within a few feet of her, and 

 then only after savagely snapping her bill at me. She 

 hissed, and puffed her feathers, in dire threats that 

 would have been heeded had I not been well balanced 

 on the shelf, from which I hoped to get a photograph 

 of the owlets. Having once long ago felt the claws of 

 a mother owl in my back while approaching her young, 

 I had no desire to repeat the experience. So I took 

 my snapshots quickly and crawled back along the nar- 

 row shelf, but not before the anxious mother had re- 

 turned, bringing her mate with her to help drive off the 

 enemy. Both came close, hooting and snapping their 

 bills at me in threatening tones as I hurried down over 

 the rocks to allay their fears and let them go back to 

 the young, which were already shivering in the cold 

 wind. The mother was soon back on the nest, shelter- 

 ing the young, while the old male hooted occasionally 

 from a neighboring rock as I remained below to study 

 the scraps from their table. 



On one side of the owl's nest the fresh body of a 

 half-eaten cottontail was seen, and the crops of the 

 young owls bulged with the tender meat, carefully 



