Discuss: On Coming Back as a Buzzard

Lots of buzzards in my neck of the sagebrush near the Snake River in south central Idaho.  I often seen four or five circling, riding the canyon thermals.  They may have a bad rap when it comes to beauty, but I watched one of the most spectacular and enviable shows of current riding I’ve ever seen by a buzzard near the City of Rocks National Momument.  It lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, nary a wing flapped, up and down.  What a ride to watch and if one had to come back as a buzzard with that kind of ride in store, one might be able to foresake the beatuy and myth.

Each Fall, in the south end of eastern San Joaquin Valley, huge rising clouds of buzzard/vulture ascend in miraculous beauty, a lovely thing to witness. They pause every half mile or so to allow stragglers to catch up in another swirling cloud of uncountable birds, eloquence of the sky.

Vultures, both Black and Turkey, nest in trees by the Intracoastal Waterway near my home in Southeast Florida.  Amusing—and instructive—that they choose to live on some of the most expensive real estate in the world.

This, too, shall pass.

When returning to their roosts in the evening, they often wind-surf on the updrafts from the seabreeze striking our apartment building.  We get to watch these incomparable aviators up close and personal (sometimes from as close as a few feet from our balcony).  At that distance, we can see how big they actually are.

The Turkey Vultures are the top soarers in our neck of the condos.  Blacks fair less well, having roughly 1/34less wing area/weight, and their flight is more utilitarian: soar and flap, soar and flap.  Sometimes it’s amusing, and other times we think it a bit sad that those guys, doing the same work for the same pay, don’t seem to get the perks of effortless flight along with their fellows.

A kettle of buzzards riding a thermal for altitude is a marvelous thing to watch as, reaching the height they need, they peel off, one after the other, wings swept back for the perfect combination of life and forward speed, and make their way cross country to the next updraft.  I’ve seen that repeated time and again, mile after mile, as they make their way from the coast, inland to the huge middens we call landfills.

They’ve fed on our scraps and other leavings since we wandered out of the savannahs, and they will most likely help finish off the last of us.  Marvelous creatures, greatly maligned, misunderstood, and unappreciated for their work and what they can teach us about the realities of this life.

Marvelous writing, too.  Thank you.

I found myself swept into a new epicurean fantasy from a member of the food chain much maligned or misunderstood…until now. Thank you. Keep writing, I need to read your perspective on the viscera of life. Carry on!

If given a choice of animals, I want to come back as a sea turtle.  The world is much larger when your domain is water based rather than land based.  A sea turtle’s elongated life span, assuming the avoidance of shrimp trawls and large sharks, would allow for a lot of exploring.

Thanks for the article, Lia. My wife and I observed some of the reintroduced condors in northern Arizona this past spring - truly marvelous animals and simply beautiful as they soar over the Vermillion Cliffs! I was so inspired when I saw them that I was moved to write a poem. Since the Orion poetry editor would probably never accept it for publication, I’m sneaking it in here.

DARK ANGELS
By Jerry Lang

Watching, anticipating
Condors sail on the breeze,
Seeking death’s remains
Dark angels come feed.

Circling skyward
Then passing low,
Fleeting shadows
Pass death down below.

Gather together
Birds of the air to feast,
Ripping, gouging, engorging
Feeding frenzied beasts.

Now death takes flight
The fallen arise,
Dark angels take wing
Life ascends to the skies.

Recall what Ed Abbey and Robinson Jeffers wrote about the role of the buzzard in nature’s cycle including their possible part in our own little act.

Oh, how I am satiated by your feast of words, images and blurred boundaries of what is real or merely desired.  Or known. My gluttonous tendencies indulged, and yet I hunger for more. Does such dichotomy exist in all things?  Should I more carefully observe my dog, the squirrels working overtime these days, insects? Thank you for sharing your pondering and process, the depth of your discourse will be difficult to emerge from.  My work may suffer today or at the least, have new focus. An image from 20 years ago came back strong:  rounding a bend in a river and coming upon a turkey vulture that startled me and scared my wife (who has a fear of birds that can barely be extrapolated to encompass a 3 foot specimen). The majestic scavenger stood ground, refusing to leave her solo treasure. We drifted closer, and were amazed anew: ginourmous bird with a badass visage, only casual interest in agawk paddlers.  The river current ended our meeting though the moment lingered for hours, as will your essay.