CUCKOOS AND ROAD-RUNNERS: ROAD-RUNNER 313 
fox hound owned by one of the workmen. The dog never failed to give 
chase as soon as the birds were sighted, and the race was as much 
enjoyed by the birds as by the dog; they seemed to have no difficulty 
whatever in keeping well out of danger without taking wing, and 
usually found time during the chase to stop at the water hole and get 
their daily drink” (1892, p. 362). A less fortunate Road-runner was 
captured by a couple of dogs fresh from the chase of a wolf, Doctor Heer- 
mann tells us. “ Hotly pressed, the bird would gain upon its enemies 
while sailing down the mountain slope, but taking to his. feet on the 
first ascent, this advantage was again soon lost, and the fugitive, 
worn out, fell at length a victim to their relentless determination” 
(1859, p. 60). On hot days in summer, Professor Merrill found, the Road- 
runner often leaves the ground and flies up into high trees for shade 
(Mb). But in the morning, Mr. Henshaw says, “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 appears to catch all the grateful warmth 
possible, remaining in this attitude for many minutes” (1875, p. 384). 
In driving along between Glenwood and Cliff we were fortunate 
enough to see six of the usually solitary birds in one day—four chasing 
one another across a flat at the mouth of Duck Creek, and one, a few 
hours later, crossing the road ahead of us and after running up the 
hillside a few yards stopping unconcernedly to let us pass. In other 
places, as on the muddy bank of the Gila, we were pleased to recognize 
their curious tracks, tracks with two toes pointing forward and two 
toes pointing back, which some of the Indians imitate, encircling the 
tent of the dead to mislead malign spirits as to the course taken 
by the departed soul. 
The notes of the Road-runner are as unusual as its figure and habits. 
In spring, Mr. Howard Lacey tells us, it “makes a loud chuckling 
crowing noise . . . and also a cooing noise that might easily be mis¬ 
taken for the voice of some kind of dove; it also makes a sort of purring 
sound in its throat, perrp, perrp , perrp” (1911, p. 209). In the dove 
note, Mr. Bailey thinks, there is also much of the cuckoo quality. 
One in southern Arizona on whose hunting grounds we camped for 
a winter, and which we called Koo } from its commonest note, became 
so friendly and familiar that we dubbed it our camp mascot. 
At the Carlsbad cave, Mr. Bailey found characteristic stick nests 
“in the blue thorn and buckeye bushes down in the deep pit of the 
west entrance, as well as in some of the tall yuccas out on the ridges 
and along the bottom of the canyons. Occasionally one of these droll, 
long-tailed birds was seen close to the cave buildings and,” he says, 
“on several occasions one came and peered into my cabin door, snap¬ 
ping its bill and making its low koo note” (1928a, p. 147). 
