THE OOLOGIST 



156 



different powers of flight. Through 

 long disuse his wings have become 

 too short to support the weight of 

 his twenty-four inch body, a good half 

 of which consists of tail. On the 

 ground, however, he more than holds 

 his own and glides along the roads 

 and through the sagebrush at a speed 

 exceeding that of a fast-trotting horse. 

 Here the long tail serves both as rud- 

 der and brake; a sudden stop is 

 brought about by throwing it upward 

 and forward with a sharp jerk. 



The notes of the Chaparral Cock, 

 as our- bird is sometimes called, often 

 puzzle the novice. Approach the 

 clump of cactus or mesquite where a 

 nest is concealed and perhaps a 

 peculiar cracking sound will be heard 

 as if someone were breaking rapidly 

 a number of sticks. The sound con- 

 tinues as long as you remain in the 

 vicinity of the nest, but the bird is 

 seldom seen; she remains hidden in 

 the dense brush and produces the mys- 

 terious noises by a snapping of the 

 bill. When undisturbed the male will 

 sometimes mount a rock or low bush 

 and utter a harsher and deeper ren- 

 dering of the familiar "Coo-oo" of the 

 Mourning Dove, a performance that 

 seems to call for much effort upon 

 the part of the bird; the sounds be- 

 ing "pumped" forth like the call-note 

 of the Bittern. 



In Southern California the breeding 

 season is from March to July, but in 

 southern Arizona I have found fresh 

 eggs at a much later date. Inhabiting 

 as he does the more arid zones of the 

 West, the Road-runner has but little 

 choice in the selection of a nesting 

 site, being confined to cactus, mes- 

 quite and a few low bushes. The nest 

 is rarely above six feet from the 

 ground. I well remember how sur- 

 prised I was on one occasion to find 

 that the nest some twenty feet up in 

 a willow tree I felt sure belonged to a 



Crow was occupied by a Road-runner. 

 The bird left the nest as I reached 

 the foot of the tree, landing almost 

 in my face in her hurried and 

 awkward flight, and to say I was 

 startled would be putting it mildly. 

 Another nest was found this year 

 twelve feet up in a pepper tree grow- 

 ing in a well-populated section of the 

 City of Los Angeles; the birds feed- 

 ing every morning with the domestic 

 fowls of a neighboring hen-yard. 



The nest is well made, smaller than 

 would be suspected from the size of 

 the builder; and is composed of sticks 

 lined with rootlets, grass, cattle-hair, 

 and sometimes bits of snake-skin. In 

 this from four to nine creamy white 

 eggs are laid measuring 1.50 x 1.20 

 inches. The bird does not lay regu- 

 larly, one egg being deposited every 

 two or three days, which makes it 

 very difficult to obtain a complete set. 

 I have often found nests containing 

 fresh eggs and nearly-half grown 

 young. How long incubation lasts I 

 have been unable to learn, but I should 

 judge the time required is about three 

 weeks. 



The young Road-runner is without 

 exception the most hideous nestling 

 that I know. Covered with a coal- 

 black skin through which the pin- 

 feathers protrude, of ungainly form 

 and as blind at birth as a kitten, he 

 is anything but beautiful. But he is 

 apparently viewed through another 

 light by the parents, at least so one 

 would judge from the solicitude that 

 they show when danger threatens 

 their offspring. 



Many stories are told of how the 

 Road-runner kills full-grown rattle- 

 snakes by dropping thorny pieces of 

 cactus on them until they are para- 

 lyzed, when the reptiles may then be 

 dispatched at leisure. Such yarns 

 should be taken with the proverbial 

 grain of salt, or rather several grains; 



