What is an iconic bird typical of southern Arizona, or the American Southwest in general?
Several candidates come to mind. There’s the cactus wren, which is, after all, our official state bird. Those in the ornithological know might posit the ornate Montezuma quail, which barely enters the United States. Harris’s hawk, Mexican duck and several other species are also contenders.
I believe, however, that the most votes would go to the greater roadrunner of cartoon fame, although it must be conceded that this species can be found far outside the arid Southwest, ranging into central California and all the way east to western Missouri and Louisiana. Further, within this broad range, greater roadrunners can be found in a wide variety of habitats, including deserts — Mojave, Sonoran and Chihuahuan — but also grasslands, and various types of woodlands.
Taxonomically speaking, greater roadrunners are members of the cuckoo family, which includes the yellow-billed cuckoo that breeds in the Sky Islands region. If you are wondering why I keep using the modifier “greater,” the answer is simple: a second species lives south of the border in Mexico, the lesser roadrunner. Befitting its name, this smaller species resembles a juvenile greater roadrunner. Both species bear the hallmark zygodactyl toe arrangement common to all cuckoo species — two toes forward and two pointing backwards. Add to this the long, powerful beak; a crest often expressively raised or withdrawn; a bare-skinned red and blue facial patch; iridescent, metallic-green plumage; as well as often animated behavior; and you have the makings of a legendary bird. I filmed this particular roadrunner (below) at Raven’s Nest Nature Sanctuary amidst a few early spring wildflowers. Note the deviation from a normally black-topped crest, which is why we have given this bird the name “White Crest.”
Despite having the ability to fly, greater roadrunners rarely do so unless pressed by a human observer or predator. (If ever there was a candidate bird species in the Sky Islands that might eventually evolve flightlessness, it is either the roadrunner or our Mexican wild turkeys.) Making up for their weak aerial abilities, roadrunners live up to their name with their terrestrial ambulatory prowess. In addition to walking and trotting about, they are capable of running speeds of about 18 miles per hour. Additionally, they can turn on a dime when seeking food or striving to avoid predators.
Greater roadrunners, unlike their cartoon counterparts, do not subsist upon seeds. While the fruits of some local plants are occasionally consumed, small vertebrates and larger invertebrates are their main fare. Within the former category, reptiles in particular are dietary mainstays. Certainly most smaller Sky Islands lizard species are fair game, unless they are nocturnal. Even larger predatory lizards, including blunt-nosed leopards and eastern collareds, are no match for the keen eyesight, lightning speed and rapier bill of a greater roadrunner. Despite their rather low weight — averaging about 12 ounces — these avian assassins sometimes slay small-to-medium-sized rattlesnakes. Using their wings as matador-like distractions, they pummel the head of the rattler between its strikes until the snake succumbs. Small mammals and birds are also occasional vertebrate prey. I once watched a roadrunner stalk a group of Brewer’s blackbirds perched in one of our velvet mesquite trees. It had little chance of taking one, yet was driven by its cat-like predatory instincts.
On the other end of the predatory equation, greater roadrunners are vulnerable to select predators. Yes, coyotes would certainly relish their flesh, though I have yet to encounter a pile of roadrunner feathers with telltale signs left by a mammalian predator. Instead, several species of hawks, particularly Cooper’s hawks, seem to be the roadrunner’s main local nemesis. Anyone who has witnessed the nearly silent, quicksilver strafing run of a Cooper’s hawk will understand how even a hyper-vigilant roadrunner might fall victim to it. Positioned along one of our many trails, we’ve dubbed one of our shade ramadas “Roadrunner Ramada.” Upon first scouting the site, Claudia and I found the skull of a roadrunner with a beak mark puncturing the cranium, evidence that the roadrunner had been killed by a raptor.
Add to all this intriguing behavior the sunning habit of greater roadrunners and the fact that males bring their would-be mates either a twig (think: nesting) or a lizard as a nuptial gift and you indeed have the makings of a fantastical bird. No offense to their TV counterpart, but there’s simply no need to embellish this already sensational bird!