Buzzards in Roscommon

 
At the very edge of our little village, on a slight rise, sits the village water tower. It overlooks a large field, the road, and then a grove of trees on the far side of the road. As befitting today’s technology, the top of the tower is adorned with any number of contrivances said to enable wireless communications. The top of the tower would look ugly and cluttered were it not for the regular visits of our town’s most striking avian guests, a venue of buzzards. [Venue – group of buzzards, as in a herd of cows]. The venue takes full advantage of the top of the tower as they rest on the assorted antenna and no doubt contribute their droppings to the array of electronic signals that are managed by the tower hardware. If you happen to receive an e-mail that seems full of it, my buzzards may be the reason.
 

    The buzzards are more properly known as Turkey Vultures – the most common vulture in North America but not the most beautiful bird you’ve ever seen if you come upon one as he feasts on rotting flesh. Even a close-up doesn’t improve his appearance as you can see,

although his red head (not shown in color here) may add a bit of drama for some bird lovers.

  

    But don’t judge the bird’s appearance up close, reserve judgment until you identify them on the wing. They are among the most beautiful of all birds as they soar overhead. Their graceful flight is almost effortless after they extend their wings and float on rising thermals. You can easily identify a turkey vulture by his graceful swirls in the air and his penchant for frequently tipping his wings in a seemingly drunken fashion to catch more air. Suddenly, sunlight catches his grey underside, turning it silver, and he becomes a flashing beauty, a majestic creature that can defy gravity.

 

 

     For me, the arrival of Turkey Vultures in spring heralds a pleasant escape from the rigors of winter. They appear to grace our countryside alongside the earliest arriving birds – about the same time as red-winged blackbirds and robins make their appearance, generally in mid-April. I’m always so pleased when they arrive I have a small celebration: one that centers on retrieving and then storing my assortment of snow shovels and moving the snowblower to the darkest, most distant corner of the barn in hopes that I won’t notice it for another six months. Of course, my celebration is nothing like that of Cleveland, Ohio where the entire town is invited to Hinckley Metroparks on March 15 to witness the arrival of the first vultures.

 

    The Hinckley Naturalist, a man by the name of Bob Hinkle, is the official buzzard spotter and he sounds the alarm when the first arrivals come to poop from their roosts on the edge of Hinckley Ridge. No one knows for sure why the vultures come to Hinckley, some old timers say they first arrived to feed on a dead Indian squaw who was left hanging on the ridge after being executed for witchcraft. Apparently she was tasty and so the birds kept coming back in hopes of finding more. That sounds fishy to me, although I did read somewhere that dead fish are the favorite foods for vultures.

 
     A typical adult turkey vulture is a big bird, averaging 30 inches in length, with a six-foot wingspread. But here is the kicker – an adult weighs in at only 2.2 pounds. 2.2 pounds! I did a quick calculation; even considering my superior brain mass, if I had the same physiology as a buzzard I should weigh no more than 17 pounds. Whoa! Back to the gym for me.
 
     We have about a dozen vultures that come yearly to the water tower. They leave our village every morning looking for food. They generally soar over open areas, watching for dead animals or other scavengers at work. I have seen them all around the county, several miles from the water tower. Unlike most other birds, in addition to eyesight, Turkey Vultures use their sense of smell to locate dead things. When they are in range of something dead, they fly low to the ground to pick up the scent of mercaptan, a gas produced by the beginnings of decay. As result of their superior ability in smelling, they can find dead animals below a forest canopy.
 
    But here is the best part; our buzzards return to the antennas on the top of water tower every evening to roost and talk over the day’s events. I like to think they are having cocktails before bedtime while they regale each other with stories about the big dead fish they found or the worst smelling skunk they managed to eat along the roadside. As the sun begins to set and shadows grow long, one by one, each of the big birds gently lifts himself from the tower with wings extended and circles a time or two to gain altitude showing off his beautiful underside. He then floats over the field, over the road and on toward the distant trees to disappear into the night without a single flap of his wings. A pretty good living, I think.