CACTI, SHRUBS, AND FLOWERS 57 



one should do so, it would be proper to apologize. 

 Without being a saint, one may object to being 

 taken for a murderer. The deer-horn grows in spread- 

 ing shape to a height of six feet or more, a maze of 

 bristling ramifications that form the favorite nest- 

 ing-place for one of the desert birds. Here the cactus 

 wren builds and broods, as secure from snakes and 

 other enemies as if she were housed in the interior 

 of a hedgehog. I have once seen the nest of this bird 

 in a true cholla; probably the device of some super- 

 careful mother who had had unfortunate experience 

 in speaking with the enemy at the gate. 



The deer-horn bears a rather pretty flower of an 

 uncommon brownish green or bronze hue, seen, I 

 think, in this plant alone. 



Less frequently met is a species much like Echino- 

 carpa, but with stems and joints much thinner, and 

 thorns fewer though not less aggressive. This is 

 Opuntia ramosissima. It bears a small brown flower, 

 a hue that Flora does not greatly love. But though 

 she is no Quaker, variety is her breath of life, so 

 even brown is adopted as a novelty. 



The handsomest of all the cactus blossoms, to my 

 mind, is that of Cereus engelmanni, which grows usu- 

 ally in company with the two foregoing species. The 

 plant looks like a colony of a dozen or so spiny 

 cucumbers, set up on end, generally under the shade 

 of a creosote bush or in the lee of a boulder. I have 

 no grudge against this fellow, who bites only if you 

 strike him. The blossom is a most charming one, a 

 sheeny, rose-like cup of superb purple or wine color, 

 crowded with golden-anthered stamens and with a 



