Turkey Vulture Drama outside my Den Window

Turkey vulture flying overhead 7-9-10 Nikon D80 70–300 mm lens

It is Friday morning, hot and sunny with a strong easterly wind. When I go outside to fill one of my bird feeders I spot a poor dead rabbit in the road. Perhaps it is one that eats my purslane and I should not be sad, but I am.  I hate to see any creature killed by man’s vehicles. I am wondering how long it will take the vultures to find it as I go back in the house.

I am sitting inside the den writing and looking out the window when one shows up. I grab my camera and take this photo from inside the house through the den window and the fence, then I creep quietly out the front door and sneak down the side of the garage, across the front of it, and around Gus’ truck which I intend to use as a blind.  I do not want to disturb the bird or spook it off its prize.  I want it to clean it up from out of the road. However, before I can even get into position I see the vulture flying up right over my head.  I thought I had spooked it as I start taking pictures. Then, as I whirl around and snap away I see a couple walking up the sidewalk right past where the bird had been. They ask me if it is a hawk but I tell them no, it is a turkey vulture, which is nature’s version of the clean-up crew.

The vulture circles several times then tries to land again but a car comes by and scares it off. It lifts off into an azure sky on wonderful and powerful dark wings.

I wonder how it must be to soar over rooftops and circle in the clouds.

I then decide to take matters into my own hands.

I walk over to the poor dead rabbit, pick it up by the end of its foot, and throw it over the fence into the wash! It must have been newly killed this morning for its body is still somewhat supple and the blood still looks red instead of black. Its death does not scare me or gross me out, I only feel sorry for its untimely death in such an unnatural manner. But this is natures way of providing for the others.

I call this giving it back to nature. I figure this way nature can take its course but if the vulture comes back it won’t be in danger from the cars and trucks anymore.  And if it doesn’t, I would rather see it decay and become part of the earth again than to get run over and mashed by car after car. The carcass settles with a soft thud into the dry desert grasses. The dark eye stares blankly into this void. The rabbit’s soul is gone. A few minutes later I am not surprised when a raven lands on the carcass instead. I had seen them hovering around the area also.

I grab the camera once again and this time creep out the back door to see if I can snap a photo but the wary raven hears me and takes off like a shot!

So, I go back inside and wait. The turkey vulture comes back but he lands in the road where the dead rabbit had been.  He stands there looking around and looking confused even though the rabbit is only 20 feet away from him over the fence in the wash. Then a jeep comes by and the vulture flies off.  It  does not return and neither does the raven.

Meanwhile, at my nearby bird feeders the rest of the birds feed as if nothing has happened at all.

I keep track of the rabbit in the wash all day long and though I remain inside so as not to disturb the birds the vulture and the raven never return. Just before sunset I check once again and its limp body still lies in the grass. One question remains: Will it still be there in the morning? You never know what happens in a desert night!

How Would you Like a Big Cosmic Slap in the Face?

It all started with a visit to the doctor’s office for Gus, but a routine check-up led to numerous tests and now he needs an angiogram done. I know, I know, they’re pretty common place and done routinely but still. It’s a wake-up call that we are both getting older. Funny thing is, I never thought it would happen to me or to us, but here we are facing this procedure and I am feeling sad and concerned and honestly, slightly shocked. So, I do what I always do, I write about it.

I go to my desk in my bedroom and sit by the open door. I open the desk drawer and take out my journal and place it on the pull down desk top. A little zephyr is playing in the treetops accompanied by the twittering of goldfinches. I am trying not to be too dramatic, but a few tears slip down my cheek. I look out the window at the sunny yellow birds and think of the joy and comfort they bring me. At least I have my birds, I think to myself when, THUNK!

I jump up startled to find one of these darling little creatures belly up on the patio floor. I quickly jump up hoping that perhaps I can save it. I tenderly pick the tiny feathered creature up and hold it in my hand. I feel its little heart racing but there is no light in the eyes, no cognition and then, the body goes limp and a little saliva trickles out the silent beak.

I’m crying full force now. Why did this have to happen? Is the universe giving me a big slap in the face? Just when I turn to nature for comfort and peace the reality of mortality is slapped in my face and with it the realization that there is nothing I can do about it! I am getting older. Gus is getting older. Death is the ultimate end to life. Face it, I tell myself. Then go ahead and enjoy the remaining days, for none of us knows how many we have, and hopefully the birds will still be singing when I am gone.

Black Death on the Wing

The hot, sunny days of dry summer are upon us here in Arizona. It reached 100 degrees yesterday and we are going for it again today. A steady light and dry wind is blowing outside while I am sitting at my computer working on a new Blogpost about a drive Gus and I took this weekend through Box Canyon. Suddenly I hear a noise out the window. I look up through the still closed plantation shutters to see a hug dark bird perched on the block wall near my birdbath and feeders. I stand up to get a better view and I am amazed to see a common raven pinning a just killed mourning dove to the top of the wall. The Raven stands over the bird, his huge black beak gaping, and proceeds to rip soft gray feathers from the hopefully dead bird.

I stand here agog, my own mouth gaping, for I have never seen a raven kill any live animal before. I suppose I could have read about this somewhere, but to witness it first hand is amazing and startling. I look to my desk where my Nikon D80 lies. I carefully pick it up, turn it on, and then stop. How will I focus on the bird through the shutters. I now curse myself for not folding them back earlier as I usually do. I know if I creep closer to the blinds and try to insert my lens through the slats, the bird will see me and flee. I start to focus between the slats from a distance and just as I get the bird in focus, it sees me and flies off.

I’m berating myself for a lost opportunity, when I realize it may have just flown to a nearby rooftop to finish its meal. A quick glance out the front window reveals the raven devouring the mourning dove atop my neighbor’s roof. Quietly I open the front door. I have my camera set on sports mode and I fully extend the zoom before raising the camera to snap off a photo. Click. I get this shot. Can you see the feathers hanging from the beak and drifting down off the corner of the building?

I take a step closer and click again. The raven continues to rip apart the dove.

Finally, I get even closer and it spies me. The black killer grabs what’s left of the mourning dove and flies to a more private location to finish its meal with sunlight glinting off the poor bird’s dead feet.