Wee Willie Wink Owl back at ya with some big news about my tiny species, the Elf Owl, Micrathene whitneyi. You know I do not like to brag, guys, that is just not my style. But... Well, you know how they recently held the North American Owl Awards ceremony at Tufts University? Well, the fact is that I... Oh, let me just come out and say it: I won the Golden Owl Pellet Award for Tiniest Owl Speices in North America!
Me! The Elf Owl! I mean, I knew I was little and all: a mere 5.5 inches the last time I got out the old measuring tape. But it never occurred to me that I was tiny in a record-breaking sort of way!
Anyway, thank you to my fans out there. A tiny owl like myself could not have risen to such heights without you guys! "Remember where you come from," that's my motto. Speaking of which, I'd better get back to my nest cavity in the saguaro cactus and check on my fledglings! Thanks again for everything, folks!
Carpe Scorpio: Seize the Scorpion December 7, 2024
Hey there, folks. Wee Willie Wink-Owl here, coming to you live from the Sonoran Desert in southern Arizona. I've been asked to make a few introductory remarks about my species, the Elf Owl, Micrathene whitneyi, so if you will bear with me for a moment. This microphone is a little high for me, guys. You don't seem to realize that I am only 5 inches in height1.
Oh, here comes a stagehand now. He'll correct the issue. Thank you very much, young man. Do me a favor and remind your bosses that I am the smallest owl in the world2. Okay? It is my claim to fame, after all. Thank you very much. Humph. I guess your previous speaker was a Great Horned Owl or something.
Now then, let us see...
I guess it all began three years ago, when I first saw the light of day through a hole in a saguaro cactus, a cavity which (as I was later to learn) had been generously carved out for our family by a Gila Woodpecker. Gila Woodpeckers and Northern Flickers carve out the perfect Elf Owl nests, in cacti, at any rate. If you want a tree trunk cavity, the Acorn Woodpecker is your man, or your bird, or whatever.
I can still remember my first kill while still in the cactus with my three fellow nurslings. This rhinoceros beetle foolishly lumbered by our nest cavity and I picked him off with my beak. No muss, no fuss. I was so proud.
Fast-forward a few weeks, and I caught my first cricket as a fledgling. Yes! I used the tried-and-true Elf Owl technique of hovering over the insect until it leapt into the air3, at which point its fate was sealed -- inside my greenish-yellow beak4, that is. Before I knew it, I was taking moths and katydids and even spiders: in short, arthropods of every kind. Sometimes I didn't even bother to fly: I just hopped right up to my prey and... "snap" goes the beak!
Four months after leaving the nest, my life changed dramatically. I molted5. I lost all that juvenile fuzz, and I finally sported the time-honored livery of the adult Elf Owl: white-spotted brown upper parts, with a gray breast and a white belly6.
Rats! The webmaster is already telling me to wind things up. No fair! I haven't even told them about my first scorpion kill. Yes, we eat scorpions. Awesome, huh? Naturally, we remove the stinger before laying to7.
Okay, I'm going. Just let me tell them where I live.
You can find me as a year-round resident in the southwestern deserts of the United States, principally of the Sonoran Desert in southern California and Arizona, where we live and raise our young8. Just listen for my call, which I'm told resembles that of a barking puppy9. (You be the judge on that: barking puppies are at a premium in the desert biome.)
Of course, if you want to see me personally, you'll have to hurry on account of we Elf Owls have a short lifespan. Just how short is hard to say, given the wide range of estimates that one finds online, but the general consensus seems to be that we'll kick the bucket by age 6, and since I'm currently 3 years old...