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and pale umber. Its plumage was smooth and rounded, and it 

 was devoid of ear tufts or other appendages, which gave it 

 the appearance of a soft sleek ball. 



Its antics were ludicrous. It cooed and jabbered to itself, 

 uttering chorus after chorus of droll notes, at times plaintive, 

 then vociferous, or soft and pleading. Its tameness was amaz- 

 ing. Even when I stretched out my hand it did not fly but 

 merely bobbed faster and shuffled to one side. When I reached 

 my fingers towards its hole it went into a perfect frenzy of 

 motion. 



A sudden blast of air coming over the top of the ridge blew 

 out the second match and left me in darkness. By the time I 

 had adjusted my vision the owl was gone and even though I 

 reached my arm full length into its burrow I could not grasp 

 it, presuming it had disappeared there. 



Returning to camp I dug a hole in the sand for my hips, 

 curled into a knot, and drifted off into a deep slumber. Before 

 dawn I awoke, chilled from the cool morning air; off in the 

 dark the owl was calling again; the notes were more placid then, 

 the low cadences flooded the dunes with their complaining. As 

 soon as there was light enough to see I rose and walked over 

 to the burrow. The owl was perched on the exact spot where 

 I had seen it the night before. When it saw me it stopped chat- 

 tering and sat motionless. With a feeling of regret I raised the 

 .410 and fired. The poor creature dropped in its tracks, quivered 

 once or twice, and was still. 



With a knife I slit its abdomen, extracted the stomach and 

 laid it on a palmetto leaf. It was full and I squeezed its contents 

 on the green tissue. The stomach contained the partly digested 

 remains of a small anolis lizard, the disjointed segments of a 

 scorpion, and most amazing, the nearly complete, if crushed, 

 carapace of a Panopeus crab. Fanopeus are tiny crustaceans, 

 scarcely more than an inch in width, and they are clad in drab 



