The Road-runner 
by the bird from the summit of a live oak or from some other eminence. 
It consists of a series of sepulchral, somewhat owl-like notes, uttered in a 
swell, kwoke kwoke KWOKE KWOKE KWOKE kwoke kwoke. This, 
too, is somewhat ventriloquial, as well as low and penetrating; but I am 
positive of its source. A much more frequent, as well as endearing 
sound, is the soft kook'-oooo of the evening hours. This note is so soft, so 
tender, and so sweetly musical, that one immediately forms a new and 
higher opinion of this gallant lover. Surely here is romance. All is, I 
cannot certify that the sound actually does come from the Cuckoo and not 
from the Ground Owl ( Speotyto cunicularia hypogcea). The uncertainty 
is shameful, but que voulez vous? One cannot pour salt on birds’ tails in 
the midnight watches. All I can say is that I have repeatedly heard these 
amorous notes in country where I knew the Road-runner to be present, 
but could not discover the owl. And I have fancied that the Cuckoo notes 
were softer and a little 
more prolonged than the 
well-known madrigal of 
Speotyto. Here is a mys¬ 
tery and a challenge. 
We know that by 
some such approved 
methods the lady’s heart 
is won, and we are 
pleased to add that the 
promises made in the 
springtime by Sir Geo 
Coccyx are not lightly 
broken. In nesting the 
birds prove themselves 
very adaptable. If in 
the open desert, the low¬ 
ly shelter of the cholla 
cactus will suffice; but if 
mesquite trees are avail¬ 
able, the bird much pre¬ 
fers the security of a 
horizontal limb or trunk. In the chaparral, the cover of the densest 
shrubs is sought, or else the live oaks. I have found these birds nesting 
also in the convenient crannies of the sandstone cliffs. In one such station 
overlooking the Antelope Plains of western Kern County, the bird sat 
with her tail bent forward sharply by the rear wall of her niche. When 
disturbed, she did not fly directly, but scuttled nimbly along the face of 
"43 
