CALIFORNIA PYGMY OWL 417 



of this material has already appeared in the Yosernite Nature Notes: 

 "We first became acquainted with the pygmy owl during the winter 

 of 1920-21. We camped this winter on the south side of the valley 

 in the shadow of the great south wall, and naturally our daily rambles 

 often took us across the valley to the sunlit slopes about the mouth 

 of Indian Canyon. Our favorite spot to eat lunch was at the base of 

 a great yellow pine that stood back of the government barns. This 

 too was the favored section of at least one pygmy owl and for a reason. 

 During the day wide doors in the loft of the barn stood open and be- 

 yond these doors was food in plenty for the Pygmy. Life was easy for 

 the little owl for whenever his appetite stirred him to activity he could 

 glide through the open barn doors and choose a mouse to his liking. 

 More than once we saw him dive into the barn and always he soon 

 appeared with a mouse in his talons. From the human point of view 

 the mouse is a destructive agent, therefore the pygmy owl as an 

 expert mouser is a beneficent bird. But, unfortunately, the pygmy 

 owl does not confine his murderous attacks to mice alone; he also has 

 a taste for song birds. Twice we happened to see Pygmy strike down 

 and carry off a Sierra junco, and once we saw him skillfully pluck a 

 pine siskin out of the bare branches of an alder tree. While we were 

 gazing up into the branches of a tall Kellogg oak, a willow woodpecker 

 flashed into our range of vision. Our eyes naturally followed the 

 woodpecker, which flew to a nest where he fed the occupant without 

 entering the hole. This action would indicate that either the young 

 were well grown or that the female bird was being fed by her mate. 

 The woodpecker flew away at once, and we sat down to await his 

 return that we might learn whether or not young birds were being fed. 

 We had not long to wait. In less than a minute a strange bird flew 

 to the nest hole. At first we were puzzled; the new arrival appeared 

 to be struggling to get into the hole. Soon, however, we realized that 

 he was tugging violently in an effort to withdraw his head from the 

 hole. The struggle continued. There was no sound. Perhaps a 

 minute passed and then the bird withdrew his head and in his bill he 

 held a woodpecker. With the limp body of his victim he fluttered 

 down to a lower branch. Now perched on the branch with the victim 

 held in place by strong talons, the pygmy owl (for this the bird proved 

 to be) proceeded to tear away feathers from the throat, apparently 

 to make sure that his victim was dead, for in a moment he flew to 

 another perch, this time carrying the woodpecker in his talons. Soon 

 he flew a little farther and attempted this time to gain a toe-hold at 

 the entrance of another woodpecker hole. His burden was too much 

 for him (the woodpecker was almost as large as the owl), and he was 

 forced to flutter down to another perch. Here the owl rested a 

 moment, took a new grip on his victim, and flew upward into the 

 cedar boughs opposite the nest hole he had so recently visited. Now 



