The roadrunner, a member of the cuckoo family, has a soft and melodic call and is a good listener.

James S. Wood / Arizona Daily Star 2001

Other articles by Lee Reynolds:

New Year's Eve an occasion for reflectionDesert corner by Lee Reynolds: Yes, there is a St. Nick, if not a Santa Monsoon brings out pets' bad side Fit to be tied over leash violators Pound pooch a perfect companion Remedy for a pet's loss is to adopt another pet A fond look back at departed pets The joys and sorrows our animals bring Presto! Spring's magic here I love those little joys of desert life

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There was a fascinating article on the front page of the Star's Accent section on Jan. 6. It addressed the fact that Northern Arizona University biology professor Con Slobodchikoff has done a monumental study of prairie dogs and their language. Yes, they have one, and it's quite intricate, including making up new words for new situations.

(Oh my, "blog" comes to mind.)

I spent more than three decades rescuing abandoned and injured wildlife for California Fish and Game before moving to this magnificent state nearly three years ago. During that time — with everything from snakes, lizards, turtles, most birds that inhabit California, plus multitudes of mammals living with me — I observed something clearly.

Animals, all of us (we are animals), communicate clearly.

The problem as it appears to me is that, aside from American Indians, nobody's listening, with the possible exception of Slobodchikoff.

Without benefit of the professor's terrific electronic devices, my evidence of the communicative abilities possessed by our fellow creatures is purely empirical. Yet, I don't believe I've ever met any creature — scaled, feathered or furred — that didn't make its wishes known, that didn't show curiosity and a desire to say something, to make me understand.

As you may read in the months to come, I have some real passions when it comes to wild creatures. Though all hold some appeal, I believe my favorite is the common raven, Corvus corax. I have a great admiration for most snakes.

Recently, I have developed a real affection for the roadrunner, a bird that clearly listens to one's voice and shows it. Bailey, the dog in my life, and I have a corner we round each morning on our walk. I call it "Roadrunner corner." I can almost count on this fellow being there.

I say, "Hey! Mr. Roadrunner."

He always stops, raises that raggedy cowl, cocks his head and waits for more conversation. I'm pretty chatty, so he gets it. He is very polite. He always waits till I'm through talking. This bird has treated me to his rather soft and melodic call. He's a member of the cuckoo family.

No "Beep! Beep!" here.

When we are speaking of favorites and communicators, we have to mention the woodpeckers. I cannot remember, nor do I have my records any longer, how many woodpecker clutches I have raised. Woodpeckers are not an easy job for a human parent. They imprint immediately, once their eyes are opened, upon the entity feeding them. I was that entity and this bonding phenomenon makes release difficult.

My first clutch consisted of seven Acorn woodpeckers, eyes still closed, with practically no feathers yet — nest cut down by loggers. Their story is amazing. So's mine, I think. I didn't have a clue how I was going to feed these critters once their eyes were open and they became active. I had a "formula" for all animals. Most birds I fed what I called specialized glop on whittled-down popsicle sticks, close to a beak.

I devised a method, so I'd know everyone was fed many times a day. I donned a large heavy-duty apron. I would line the woodies up on it (they clutch well). I would stuff the first one, back in the box; I would stuff the second one, back in the box, and so it went.

Just one more thing. Woodpeckers, all of them as far as I know, don't shut up until way after midnight in captivity. They're irresistible.

I have fallen in love with our Gila woodpeckers. I have mentioned their little steel band drumming on summer mornings. Drain pipes are perfect instruments for them. They have the same feisty personalities I've been used to in this family of birds. Don't believe the literature that tells you they're shy. They aren't.

I have a dude (I know he's a dude 'cause he has that red all over his head) who likes to sit on the ledge outside my office window. He's totally unafraid of Bailey, who barks at him sometimes.

He pecks, "Donk! Donk!" on the window and says, "Whatcha doing? Let me in."

This is a regular occurrence. He is quite nasty to a few of the more timid species around here. I really like to watch woodpeckers work over a piece of bark. It's so misunderstood. If they didn't do that, the insects they're after would destroy the tree.

Gila woodpeckers eat just about anything, but fruits are a favorite. The little saguaro "watermelons" in summer are a real treat.

As I finish this, the sun has burnished the peaks of my beloved Catalinas, giving them that raw but tranquil look. There's also a guy with bars on his wings and a red cap lurking outside. I want to talk to him. I'd really like to know his name.

EAST Voices