After 10 days awestruck by alien terrain, our quickened pulses slow as the first filaments of Spanish moss appear in the oak boughs and humid air envelops us like a sticky comfort blanket. We cross the Texas-Louisiana state line, and the surroundings look familiar again, although home is still another thousand miles away. From this point forward, there will be no new birds for our life list, no more blazing suns sinking behind Sedona’s red sandstone cliffs or the Painted Desert’s green crevasses.

 

Our journey is near its end.

 

In 13 days, Debi and I covered eight states and 3,500 miles, the last third of which stretched through a flat, watery landscape not much different from South Carolina’s Lowcountry. 

 

Along the way, we saw 27 species of birds we’d never seen before. We ticked them off so rapidly at the outset — at least one new bird every day for the first 10 days, and usually more than that, even when most of our waking hours were spent in the rental car. 

 

Nothing new followed the roadrunner, though. And truth be told, seeing that bird brought more relief than elation.

 

Debi and I were far too nonchalant about the prospect of such a sighting. In studying the species we might encounter on our trip, we looked at the region shaded periwinkle on the roadrunner’s range map. Someone might as well have thrown a net over the very area we’d be traveling. Seeing a roadrunner? Piece of cake, we thought.

 

What’s more, our Texas hostess, Cathy,  regaled us with the story of a female roadrunner that regularly visits a client’s lodge where her husband manages the habitat. “Penelope” is practically tame. At night, she sleeps in a stirrup on a shelf above the lodge wet bar. During hunting season, she hangs around the skinning shed, where the guides feed her meat scraps. 

 

Hearing this, we assumed stuffing a roadrunner or two in Debi’s purse and taking it home with us would be a viable option, were we so inclined.

 

But by Day 9, we hadn’t seen a single roadrunner. With only a day to spare before we’d be traveling out of range, we finally spotted one during a sightseeing drive a few hours before dusk. Forty yards ahead of us, on the shoulder of a gravel road, scurried the bird that made our trip complete, though not quite perfect, as it turned out. Cathy’s husband slowly brought the SUV to a stop, and I exited the rear driver-side door, being careful not to slam it as I checked my camera settings. 

 

I’m pretty good at stalking, but with nothing much between me and old Meep Meep to shield his view of me, I decided to shoot a few photos before trying to get any closer. Good thing: No sooner had I resumed my creeping than the roadrunner began a slow retreat behind a fence line before disappearing out of sight. 

 

So I had a picture, just not a great picture — nothing more than a snapshot, really. I climbed back into the SUV with an all-too-familiar feeling, the same one I had two summers earlier in the Galapagos Islands when all I could manage was a wide, grainy shot of a blue-footed booby, those islands’ iconic bird.

 

At least we didn’t get skunked. That would have been terrible. No self-respecting birders can travel a couple of thousand miles through the American Southwest and return home without seeing a greater roadrunner.

 

While crossing into Louisiana two days later, Debi and I laughed at the thought of coming home empty-handed. Now, with familiarity overwhelming our windshield, we looked to the rearview mirror for amusement, killing time by ticking off our favorite meals, our favorite sights, our favorite new birds. 

 

We also kept the travel spicy by going off script. Through the first week, we stuck faithfully to an itinerary set months in advance, but we more or less chucked it into the San Saba River after arriving at Cathy’s. We stayed an extra night at her house, lodged in Austin rather than Houston after departing, and turned Mobile into a day trip so that we could overnight instead in the Florida panhandle, so that we’d be a little closer to home for the journey’s final leg.

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(STORY CONTINUES AFTER GALLERY)