Rattler Killing Roadrunners

Not really the BEEP-BEEP bird of cartoon lore.

Few animals in the deserts of the American southwest are more iconic than roadrunners, or at least the version of the bird created in 1949, which faced perpetual battles with one Wile E. Coyote. I certainly remember spending many Saturday mornings engrossed in their antics, the scheming, clever, brilliant, and ever-thwarted, ever-unlucky Mr. Coyote, whose allegiance to what seems to me to be one of the great marketing scams, the Acme Corporation—How exactly did they stay in business when seemingly all of their products failed—led him to order ever more elaborate, and seemingly infallible, yet always fallible, contrivances for catching his arch nemesis, and hoped for next meal, The Road Runner, a speedy, often gravity-defying, ever confident, irksome bird.

What the cartoon failed to convey was how handsome roadrunners are in person, or in bird, as the case may be. Last week, I was in Tucson and was lucky to see two roadrunners, one in a backyard and one living up to his or her name, on a road. Normally, they speed away but the one we encountered in Sabino Canyon initially skitted away and then approached us, seemingly accustomed to encountering roadwalkers, such as us. Up close, I could see that the tawny to russet streaked feathers glinted in the light with hints of turquoise, metallic olive, and bluejay blue. Plus, hard to not appreciate the pompadour, which flares up when the bird speeds away.

After posing for a few photos, the bird crossed the road. (In this case, in regard to the proverbial avian question, I do know why; the bird appeared to be after a grasshopper, which the roadrunner caught and ate.) Omnivorous, picky (one report described how the birds would consume only the brains of their prey), and aggressive, roadrunners are “savage killers,” according to my wife’s father. “It kind of pisses me off that they are often portrayed as cute little critters on Christmas cards.” As the Birds of the World entry notes: “Devours adult birds, young, and eggs of other species at all opportunities. Regularly captures birds at feeders, birdhouses, and traps…” Hmm, hardly a cuddlesome creature, especially with brain breath.

And, one story from Death Valley, just because it tickles me. A woman was eating an ice cream cone, a roadrunner approached, and she tossed the remains of her treat toward the bird. Ignoring the offering, the roadrunner nabbed a sparrow, several of which had descended on the cone, whacked it dead on the pavement, and dined, much to the consternation of the distraught woman.

With names as varied as paisano, medicine bird, chapparel cock, ground cuckoo, and cock of the desert, roadrunners have a long and legendary relationship with people and lore. One story tells of how roadrunners construct a corral of cholla pads (like mini, spiked hot dogs) around a snoozing rattlesnake, drop a pad on the snake, which agitates the serpent and allows the bird to run in and peck the ensnared snake to death. Again, sounds like a Looney Toons tale but roadrunners are actually known for their ability to attack and kill rattlesnakes. Other lore attests to the roadrunners’ generosity in leading lost travelers to trails, bringing good luck when they cross one’s path, and curing your boils when eaten.

A formidable bill that enables roadrunners to kill rattlesnakes and pluck out their brains for a meal.

Roadrunners deserve to be well-known birds, not because of their starring role in cartoons but because of their superb adaptations, beauty, and unusual, at least for birds, running ability. I know that I am always thrilled to encounter one. Nor should we disregard or dislike coyotes because of their rapacious portrayal in cartoons. Fortunately, coyotes have had far more success in the real world, despite humanity’s long term hatred and unbounded desire for killing them. (I still wish that Mr. Coyote would succeed and catch the Road Runner, perhaps by using his own intelligence or by finding some other company to buy his gadgets.)

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Word of the week - Cuckoo - The scientific name for roadrunners is Geococcyx californianus, or the California earth cuckoo. The better known use of coccyx, or the end of the spine, comes from the bone’s resemblance to the bill of a cuckoo, or coccȳx in Latin, a name derived from the sound the bird makes; despite what Wile E. Coyote and cartoon watchers have heard, roadrunners do not go beep-beep. Cuckold also comes from cuckoos, which are well known for placing their eggs in the nest of another bird, who, in turn, will raise the ersatz youngster.

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Wishing everyone a splendid, light-filled, and joyous winter solstice!