52 CALIFORNIA DESERT TRAILS 



a candelabrum. A mature saguaro may be fifty feet 

 high or more, but the tallest specimen I found on 

 the California side of the river was not over forty 

 feet. It was an odd-shaped, untypical growth, with 

 a few stumpy arms that looked as if they had been 

 amputated. 



In nearly every saguaro one finds a number of 

 neat round holes, the entrances, originally, to wood- 

 peckers' nests, but often used rent free by that 

 quaint little goblin the elf owl, Micropallas whitneyi, 

 the Tom Thumb of his tribe, hardly six inches high 

 when full grown. My tallest saguaro must have had 

 a score of these holes, a veritable hotel or skyscraper 

 of owls. I was disappointed that I could not make 

 camp beside it, but I think I can warrant any other 

 traveller who may do so some pretty weird music for 

 his lullaby. 



The plant bears large waxy blossoms that grow 

 directly on the stem and branches, and the fruit is 

 a first-class luxury to the Indians. 



When the red flood of sunset comes on those great 

 plains and hill slopes, where no other object breaks 

 the far expanse, while the ancient river moves 

 silently on to the lonely gulf and the mysterious sea, 

 and the traveller's steps halt under that old spell of 

 evening, then the dark, upward-pointing finger of the 

 saguaro gives an added solemnity to that impression 

 of the vast, unchanging, and elemental which is the 

 eternal note of the desert. 



