Essays

Wild On The Prairie: Birds

Roadrunners as icons
September 16, 2001

When Magoosh died, roadrunners became a powerful symbol for Deborah and me. Magoosh stepped far beyond mere "birdness." His fearlessness became inspiration, giving us confidence in attempting ambitious projects. We have collected a number of figurines, hand-painted tiles, candle holders, and jewelry featuring roadrunners to be used in constructing a nicho, which will serve as a personal adaptation of the Hispanic folk art form which normally features religious images.

We wish to give roadrunners a special place of honor in our home because of the special place they have in our hearts. Nearly every religion utilizes some form of altar, and in many religions an altar is a necessary component of the home’s furnishings. A nicho is a form of altar, and by creating ours, we are giving substantive form to our deep feelings about roadrunners.

Roadrunners are an American pop culture icon, as we all know. The Saturday morning cartoon featuring Wily Coyote ran for years. eBay’s internet auctions highlighting products that bear the Hanna-Barbera images sell very well as collectibles. It is tremendously exciting that an image of our Southwestern wildlands has become a recognizable image to all of the diverse people that make up our nation. Midland College uses the roadrunner as a mascot.

In the last two years we, as a town, have been developing many different avenues for creating a diversified local economy. One of the things that have been suggested is the creation of another slogan such as "The sky’s the limit." An instantaneously identifiable icon should accompany a slogan, and I humbly submit my choice, the roadrunner.

I love the roadrunner's face, its crest raised inquisitively and the blue and orange skin above the eye boldly adding emphasis. Roadrunners are watchful, proud, intelligent, and mischievous. They are also enduring and resourceful. Roadrunners are omnivorous, eating everything from snakes to English Sparrows (including tomatoes, cicharas (cicadas), and dog food). Omnivorousness is the basis of resourcefulness. Nothing is wasted, everything is tested, analyzed, and investigated.

We are living through the eighth year of a drought, and every year we endure several dozen days of temperatures above the weathercaster's favorite cliche, "the century mark." At the Gone Native Arboretum, the roadrunners are thriving, kicking up the dust as they scurry about the neighborhood in the half section surrounding the Arboretum. It has been molting season, and some of our neighbors are quite proud of the feathers given to them by the roadrunners.

Roadrunners interact with their environment with more complexity than is expected of a bird. A wonderful result of the publication of my three previous articles on roadrunners has been the sharing of stories by folks from all over about their personal encounters with the paisano. Roadrunners are indeed the "fellow citizens of the home country," as the Spanish term describes.

I have mentioned Ola Dublin Haynes before -- her pride and love of our countryside enriched my family's lives tremendously. I was "fiffertail" to her as a small child: when held in the warm embrace of a gifted and gentle mentor, a child’s memories blossom into lifelong influences. Following are excerpts from Ola’s story about roadrunners that appeared in the March, 1965 issue of The Phalarope:

"A roadrunner considers a family of people, observing them, testing them, and if found suitable, takes them for its own. Consider the Elkin's farm roadrunner. She spends afternoons following Winston about as he works. Between 4 and 4.30 she proceeds to the garage, goes the length of it and then turns into the tool room. About 7 feet up the wall is a corner shelf with a spotless pad on which she sleeps. When Winston enters for a tool the bird is sitting with tail erect, against the wall. She never stirs. Not once has pad, shelf, or floor been befouled.

"She had lost her mate the year before, and despite a roadrunner convention for a few days, when it seemed that three or four were in sight at all times, she did not "pair-up" this year. She started several nests, finished one or two, and of course never produced any eggs. She did adopt two kittens that loved to sprawl on the cool patio away from the summer sun. The foster parent often brought horny toads, lizards, and other things to offer them to the orphan kittens. Several times she offered snakes. When the kittens just didn't realize how delectable the snake was, the roadrunner trampled up and down on their bodies in her eagerness. She finally used foot and bill to make a loop of the snake and proffered it again.

"Later one of the cats proudly came to the dooryard with an English Sparrow. The roadrunner began pacing back and forth in front of the cat, flipping its tail and peering at the cat from several different angles. The cat became entranced at its maneuvers and relaxed the grip it had on the bird, which fluttered a few feet, and like lightning the roadrunner dashed in, snatched the bird and bounded away. It raced all the way around the house, sailed over the front gate, ran at a long trot along a stone fence and then soared up to the top of a pickup.

"She came to watch two workmen remodeling the kitchen. For a while it watched from the next room, but then decided to seek a better vantage point and advanced blithely through the doorless aperture. Mrs. Elkin's shiny, slippery floor gave the bird a great surprise, but no greater than that of the carpenters who turned at the sound and saw an unbelievable bird getting up and falling down in a series of fast, frantic movements. When finally it flopped out the door, its long, steady gallop said eloquently how relieved it was to be on natural ground once more!

"Two summers ago she mated and raised young. When the first brood of six was able to find grasshoppers for themselves, the female laid six more eggs in the same nest. Before the summer had passed she had laid 22 eggs! If strangers neared the nest, the adult reluctantly left it. Mrs. Elkin freely reached into the nest to show eggs or young. The parent stood close by clack-clacking its mandibles. When the older and larger young ones were removed briefly to be given Fish and Wildlife identification bands, they hissed exactly like a bull snake. Maybe it has been the memory of 22 kids that led her to adopt people and kittens!"

When a creature provides the grist for countless stories, it becomes more than just a bird. When countless stories are told about the species, it becomes an icon.