The Arizona Elf Owl 



oologist will pack a ladder for weary miles over the desert. For this he 

 will invade the haunts of the "side-winder" and the Gila monster. For 

 this he will wrestle with tediously unending creosote and insinuating cat's 

 claw. For this he will brave the cruel cholla, which looses its bunched 

 lances at a touch, or pierces the feet of the passerby. For this he will 



Taken in Arizona 



Pholo by the Author 



WHERE THE ELF OWL NESTS 



ascend rickety heights of sahuaro; if need be, hug its spiny column to meet 

 a flaw of wind or to gain an objective just six inches higher. (The thorns 

 can be removed from the knees and arms at leisure over the camp fire.) 

 For this he enlarges ancient wounds in the venerable cactus, plying his 

 hatchet in the slithery substance of the "giant's" flesh, until his arms are 

 ready to drop off from weariness. And all that he may at last come upon 

 a bundle of feathers at the bottom of one of the holes. 



The bundle is elongated, supine, comfortable to the hand, all but 

 non-resistant. Draw it forth, the drowsy little elf! Claws it has, and 

 they clutch convulsively, but they are scarcely strong enough to hurt you. 

 Eyes it has, — yellow, saucer eyes, that might be wrathy if only the elfkin 

 would wake up. Soft, weathered browns and streaky whites with touches 

 of fawn make up a costume as proper as that of Scops or Bubo; but who 



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