The Road-runner 
Owl, who is a well-known adept at it. The squeaking, too, was well- 
timed, and not overdone. This ruse was soon dropped and not repeated 
thereafter. 
In view of my refusal to follow the lure, the bird returned frequently 
to the depths of the tree. For this purpose she either ran up swiftly, or 
hitched along by starts and pauses, or else leaped by a single effort upon 
one of the lower branches. In despair, finally, she absented herself out¬ 
right, whereupon I did the same. I found her brooding upon my return, 
and the same tactics were repeated with less fervor. 
The youngsters, four of them now, exhibit a regular gradation of size, 
though perhaps not greater than a deposition of eggs on alternate days 
would account for. Only the eldest had his eyes open. The birds are 
dark in color, with a sparing but showy array of stiff white hairs, or bris¬ 
tles. The feet are exactly like those of the parent, that is, with two toes 
in front and two behind. But the bills, or snouts, are very different, 
and are curiously suggestive of those of birds of prey, especially vultures, 
for the nostrils are very prominent and placed well forward. When 
disturbed, as by expectation of food, or in assuming the maternal presence, 
the youngsters keep up a curious impersonal sound, somewhat between 
a hum and a buzz. This sound is produced with closed mandibles, and 
is still very penetrating to the ear. 
The next visit was paid to the Road-runner’s nest on the morning of 
the 14th, and an attempt was made to photograph with the set camera. 
The bird was not brooding at 8:30, but she presently appeared beside me 
in the tree, and was bolder and more menacing than before. Once, 
while I was adjusting the tripod, she actually glided over my leg, and I 
was afraid she would take a sly nip at an unwary finger. 
Presently I take up a position at the base of the tree, bulb release 
in hand, whereupon the bird arranges a regular tour of inspection. For 
the most part she lurks behind some chaparral across the little canyon, 
but ever and again she appears around the end of the little brush-patch in 
plain view, crouches, glides, crouches again, scuttles, and so traverses 
a forty-foot stretch, which takes her out of sight again. In this opera¬ 
tion she has been joined by the male, who insists, after some efforts at 
disuasion on his mate’s part, upon securing some furtive glimpses of the 
monster. He is manifestly troubled, but yields precedence to his insist¬ 
ent wife. She will attend to the matter. And now another strange 
note has developed, or rather clarified itself to consciousness. It is 
somewhat between a squeak and a hoot and a sneeze, or is a combination 
of all three, and it is terminated by a violent but rhythmical clicking of 
the mandibles. What can it mean? 
A hasty visit to the Road-runner’s nest on the 21st instant dis- 
