Rensselaer Journal, Volume 10, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 April 1901 — Callfornia Bird Kills Snakes. [ARTICLE]

Callfornia Bird Kills Snakes.

In southern California is a very peculiar bird—not because of its appearance, but because of its habits. It has several names. The one by which it is best known is the California road runner. It is also often spoken of as the chaparral cock. The scientists have classified it as a member of the cuckoo family, but to the observer who isn’t scientific it appears more like a relative of the pheasant family. The road runner a poor flier, and has to get a running start before it can rise into the air. It gets the name of road-run-ner from the fact that it will keep up along with a horse and buggy for miles by means of its brisk little legs, never resorting to its wings, and seemingly making little effort. The most peculiar thing about this bird is its hatred of snakes and the method it takes to vent its spite upon them. In the section of country inhabited by this bird the cactus is a common plant. When the bird finds a shake taking a nap in the sun, as is a habit with his snakeship, it makes haste to gather leaves of the cactus and lays them in a row about the sleeping serpent, at a safe distance. When it has one row completed it lays a second and a third, and continues thus to strengthen ita fence until it is confident that the barrier will serve the purpose intended. It then proceeds to awaken the unsuspecting victim by leaping over him, giving him a spiteful peck as it passes over. The snake thus awakened starts to glide away, but brings up against the prickly spines of the cactus. Then he turns and tries another direction. He soon discovers that he is in a trap, and then he gets very angry and races around the little inclosure, getting pricked at every turn. If the snake gets wise and stops his mad plunging about the bird again hops over him and stirs him up with other blows from its sharp bill till the snake, again frenzied, rushes around among the sharp spines and receives new wounds. This continues until the reptile has punctured his skin so frequently that he dies of his injuries.—Chicago Record.