JB: I appreciate your meeting me tonight. I’ve never been able to interview a male Elf Owl.
ELOW: By what observations are you inferring I’m a male Elf?
JB: Great question. I’ve made two inferences tonight. The first is, damn, you’re small! Wringing wet you’d be smaller than the Rufous-crowned Sparrow which was perched on that very branch just before sundown. Female owls are always bigger. Bigger than the sparrows. You’re five inches, max!
ELOW: Not so. Remember, we’re an insectivorous species. Females are bigger only in the owl species that prey predominantly on birds, so the males don’t attack the females. Male and female Elfs are the same size.
JB: Ah, a trained biologist would have known that from hands-on weighing and measuring. But, secondly, you’re so noisy! I know Elfs are the most vocal of all the owl species. Birders always hear you before they see you, so taping isn’t even necessary, but what I heard tonight sounded like the tapes, the long, repetitive chattering “song” male Elfs use for territorial advertisement. I’ve seen it characterized as “laughing,” “cackling,” “yapping,” “high pitched like a small dog.” That was an intense performance. Early evening, full moon. You’re not advertising again are you? It seems pretty late in the year for that.
ELOW: (somewhat irritated): For your information, I happen to know many of your readers think your columns are very verbose.
JB (mimicking): Everyone’s like, a critic! Listen, I have a degree in English. I love the language. So many words in our language have so many nuances of meaning dependent on context or depth of emotion. I’m always searching for that one word to best convey a precise feeling or idea. You should relate to that. Researchers have isolated twelve different Elf vocalizations—location calls, warning calls, precopulatory calls, copulatory calls, mated birds’ duets, feeding responses . . .
ELOW (interrupting): “One word” and “precise” are not terms I’ve heard associated with your prose. Do you want to listen to why I came to this appointment?
JB: Yes.
ELOW: Ah. One word and very precise. I’m here because I knew you were coming and I wanted to conduct this interview.
JB: Got it. You wanted to control the narrative. I’ve had some experience with the hardly coincidental and the totally inexplicable where owls are involved. I can tell you I believe that’s why we’re doing this right now, but how do I believably present this to my readers.
ELOW: The Apaches believed.
JB: Why do I sense a story coming?
ELOW: Often we moved north with them out of Mexico in the springtime. Many tried to settle down and plant crops in Arizona, but the old ways died hard. As the Elfs returned south for the winter, so did the Apache to raid for horses and cattle across the border. Late in the summer of 1886 a small band of warriors was moving east to join up with Geronimo. One day they laid up in a dry wash, planning to travel up through a box canyon to cross the Santa Ritas by moonlight. As they broke camp an Elf Owl flew into a Palo Verde and sang to them of Miles’ soldiers waiting in the box. One of the band argued vehemently that the owl lied, but the leader mistrusted him because he had scouted for the U.S. Army under Crook. They asked the Elf to give them a sign. Immediately the ex-scout was transformed into a huge boulder resembling the head of an owl. The leader turned his band south and followed the Santa Cruz back into Mexico.
JB: That’s a great story. I’d never heard it, but . . . (winking) I’ve seen the rock.
ELOW: And you’re using it as the title for your column?
JB: Yes, but I’m using “rock” as a verb, not a noun. Remember I had never heard the story until tonight. Owls rock
ELOW: I’m afraid I don’t understand “rock” as a verb? Is this another nuance of the language which you have invented?
JB (feigning annoyance): Language evolves. As a living textbook of biological evolution, I’d think you would understand that concept perfectly. So you’re saying because of their migratory associations, the Apache thought the Elf Owl special?
ELOW: Absolutely. They knew all fourteen of the Arizona owl species, but to them we were unique. The Flams migrated too, but disappeared into the mountains farther north when they reached Arizona. We and the desert pygmy owls shared the Apache world summer and winter. But we were at once both the smallest and the easiest to observe and track at night. Remember we cannot silence our flight like other owls. Insects can’t hear, so there’s no need to still our wings.
JB: There you go. Those special, yet diverse, evolutionary traits are why your family rocks. “Rock” as a verb means “special.”
ELOW: Whatever, but I see a scorpion. I’m out.
JB: Thanks, but hey, I’m not putting an apostrophe in my title.