Valley Quail and Road-Runners 337 



and the result is they thrive and wax apace. Bevies of from 40 to 150 birds 

 are not at all uncommon, and they descend from the foothills, which are 

 crowned with thick cover of sage-brush and thickets, and come to the very 

 door-steps and back yards of the residents. As there is absolutely no winter 

 weather here, and not a flake of snow, and only a Httle rain annually, they are 

 never killed off by snowdrifts and starvation. Further north in southern 

 California, where the snow comes occasionally in some parts of the country, 

 they feed the birds when the ground is snow-covered, and it is a pretty and 

 interesting sight to watch a bevy of Quail picking up seeds or bread-crumbs 

 scattered about on the white tablecloth. 



Driving about the southern coimties, over roads sign-posted and guarded 

 in every direction by the directing and warning signs of the Automobile Club 

 of Southern California, you will sometimes see a swift-moving grey and black 

 bird, about as large as an Upland Plover, dart quickly from some neighboring 

 clump of thickety chaparral, stop for an instant on the roadway, and then go 

 briskly across and disappear in the adjoining cover. Somehow I never see a 

 Road-runner that I do not think of the "pony-riders," the mail-carriers of the 

 early sixties. Alert, rapidly moving, semi-military figures, the Road-runners 

 are almost invariably on the move. 



Their movements are incredibly swift and precise, and their alignment 

 against a background of grey sage-brush and greyer rocks seems almost shadow- 

 like, taken in connection with their own iiniform of greyish black. I have 

 never seen two Road-rimners together, nor two in close proximity to one 

 another in the same stretch of country. They appear to be as solitary as 

 Loons. But to the stranger in the land, the sudden appearance of this gro- 

 tesque bird is as quaint and unique as the apparition of Poe's "Raven perched 

 upon the bust of Pallas." He is one of the most disappearing birds in the 

 entire roster of birddom. 



"Here he comes and there he goes" does not quite do justice to his trick of 

 entrance and exit. He wiU be in the middle of the highway before you have 

 noticed him emerge from one side of the road, and he wall be on the other side 

 of the trail, and out of sight before you have fairly visualized his perky top- 

 knot and long taU. Maybe the Road-riinner sometimes deigns to use his 

 wings, but I have never yet seen one in the air. As a sprinter he has few 

 rivals. 



The Road-runner, or 'Chapparal Cock,' as he is locally called, partakes of 

 the outward appearance of a Pheasant, a Chicken, and a Jay. His elongated 

 beak is a characteristic of his own. His preposterously long tail, often elevated, 

 is like a Pheasant's for sheer length. The lower portion of the breast reminds 

 one of certain breeds of poultry. The saucy and suspicious gleam of the eyes 

 is something similar to the Blue Jay of the eastern states. But all in all, there 

 is no bird quite like him. 



