“I should probably have been a wiser and better informed man,” opined J. Frank Dobie in 1942, “had I spent more time out with the grasshoppers, horned toads, and coyotes.” Texas’ writer emeritus—who wrote entire volumes on mustangs, Longhorns, and other creatures—knew that the link between animal and writer was perfectly, well, natural. A similar faunal fondness seized many writers, from Frederick law Olmsted, who noted whitetails, whooping cranes, and more in his 1857 travelog, to Larry McMurtry, who created a memorable duel between a bull and a bear in Lonesome Dove. As we celebrate Texas Writers’ Month, we offer a tribute to the state’s fanged, feathered, and fur-bearing icons. From eight of the world’s most acclaimed illustrators, we commissioned eye-catching portraits of these animal muses, which we then paired with pertinent quotes from our native literati. For the beastly results, read on.
(Illustration by Braldt Bralds is not available online.)
The road runner, a good wild plain bird, could be seen running up and down the roads of the valley, shy and alone and ugly…perking up a knotty little head with goggle-eyes in it, a plucked-looking and ragged long tail at the end of him, and running on strong foolish slew-feet. He could run all the long roads of the world, he was so strong and tireless.
“The Road Runner in Woolworth’s,”
Selected Writings of William Goyen (1974)
(Illustration by James Marsh is not available online.)
Every night before mama let him got to bed, she’d make Arliss empty his pockets of whatever he’d captured during the day. Generally, it would be a tangled-up mess of grasshoppers and worms and praying bugs and little rusty tree lizards. One time he brought in a horned toad that got so mad he swelled out round and flat as a Mexican tortilla and bled at the eyes.
Old Yeller (1956)
(Illustration by John Collier is not available online.)
The wolves we Texans hunt aren’t really wolves at all—just coyotes. There are a few big lobos in the state, but not many, nothing like the bountiful supply of coyotes which slink over the southern and western lands. If you are out hunting without dogs, say stalking deer, you seldom jump a coyote. But if you look over your shoulder occasionally, you’ll probably see one crossing your trail behind you, and he’ll be the guiltiest looking fellow you ever saw.
George Sessions Perry
Texas: A World in Itself (1942)
MOUNTAIN LION and RATTLESNAKE
(Illustration by Brad Holland is not available online.)
The first thing Bill knowed, his hoss stumps his toe on a mountain and breaks his fool neck rollin’ down the side, and so Bill finds his self afoot.
He takes off his saddle and goes walkin’ on, packin’ it, till all at once he comes to a big rattlesnake. He was twelve feet long and had fangs like the tushes of a javelina; and he rears up and sings at Bill and sticks out his tongue like he was lookin’ for a scrap. There wasn’t nothin’ that Bill wouldn’t fight, and he always fought fair; and jest to be shore that rattlesnake had a fair show and couldn’t claim he took advantage of him, Bill let him have three bites before he begun. Then he jest naturally lit into that reptile and mortally flailed the stuffin’ out of him. Bill was always quick to forgive, though, and let by-gones be by-gones, and when the snake give up, Bill took him up and curled him around his neck, and picked up his saddle and outfit and went on his way.
As he was goin’ along through a canyon, all at once a big mountain lion jumped off of a cliff and spraddled out all over Bill. Bill never got excited. He jest took his time and laid down his saddle and his snake, and then he turned loose on that cougar. Well, sir, the hair flew so it rose up like a cloud and the jackrabbits and road-runners thought it was sundown. It wasn’t long till that cougar had jest all he could stand, and he begun to lick Bill’s hand and cry like a kitten.
Well, Bill jest ears him down and slips his bridle on his head, throws on the saddle and cinches her tight, and mounts the beast. Well, that car jest tears out across the mountains and canyons with Bill on his back a-spurrin’ him in the shoulders and quirtin’