48 BULLETIN 17 6, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



J. Eugene Law (1923) tells us of a roadrunner that tried to pull 

 a dead golden-crowned sparrow through the s^^-inch-mesh wire of 

 a sparrow trap. This writer states that he did not actually see the 

 roadrunner kill the sparrow, though an autopsy showed "the entire 

 brain area" to be "dark v/ith blood infusion." 



My pet roadrunners did not capture horned "frogs" unless other 

 food was difficult to obtain. They killed and ate these well-armored 

 reptiles, however. A horned lizard, confronted by its ancient foe, 

 would flatten out, rise high on its legs, and sway back and forth as 

 if about to leap or inflict a dangerous bite. But a roadrunner is not 

 to be bluffed. Grasping his tough victim by the head or back he 

 beat it against a convenient stone. Thirty or forty blows were 

 needed to render it sufficiently quiescent for ingestion. If swallowed 

 while yet alive it had to be coughed up for further battering. 



When not engaged in pursuing food a roadrunner may rest, seek- 

 ing either a cool spot on the ground or the shadowy heart of a tree. 

 In the morning it sometimes takes a sunbath. Henry W. Henshaw 

 (1875) tells us that "it loves to meet the first rays of the rising sun, 

 ascending for this purpose to the top of the mesquite trees, and, 

 standing erect on the topmost branch, loosens its feathers, and ap- 

 pears to catch all the grateful warmth possible, remaining in this 

 attitude for many minutes." My captive roadrunners took sun- 

 baths every day, spreading their wings and exposing the featherless 

 tracts of their backs. 



The roadrunner has a streak of domesticity in his nature. Mrs. 

 Bailey (1922) has given us a delightful account of a remarkably 

 tame though uncaged bird that lived about camp. Concerning this 

 bird (which was known as "Koo"), Mrs. Bailey says: 



It was not his potential usefulness as a camp watchman or killer of "var- 

 mints" but his ready friendliness and attractive ways which attached us to our 

 rare camp visitor. If we were busy when he came he would call koo, koo, and 

 then wait for us to discover him. Sometimes we would look hard before finding 

 him and finally make him out standing on the mesquite slope above us, his 

 feathers puffed out spreading the streaks on his chest till they and his light 

 underparts toned in perfectly with a background of straw-colored ground and 

 dry weed-stalks — completely camouflaging him. It was astonishing to see how 

 such a large, marked bird could disappear in its background. And what a 

 contrast that round, bird-like form made to the grotesque running figure we 

 were familiar with — long neck, slender body, and long tail, one straight line. 



J. K. Jensen (1923) tells us of a pair of roadrunners that fed 

 "with the chickens on a ranch near Santa Fe," that "came regularly 

 for a 'hand out' and often went to roost in the poultry house." This 

 author does not specify what the "hand out" was. Needless to say, 

 it hardly could have been corn or wheat. 



Frightened from the nest a roadrunner may scuttle off to remain 

 hidden for some time. Again, it may stay close by, attempting to 



