My Spirit Bird
Today I placed a photo of a Turkey Vulture which my granddaughter, an amateur photographer, took in the Badlands of Florida, into a frame which I have hung on my living room wall. The bird is soaring, wings wide spread, his tail straight and stiff behind his glistening black body. His crimson head with golden beak pierce the sky. I love this photo which Lily-Anne took just for me. She knows how I honor the
Turkey Vulture.
I saw my first Turkey Vulture when I was 22 years old, working in a veterinary hospital in Stamford, Connecticut. A client told me about the nature center there and how they needed volunteers to help care for the "inmates". When I went to offer my time, I was immediately charmed by the fox. He was as tame as a dog and badly in need of grooming. His heavy red coat was matted and dirty. So I began with him. Nearby was a
cage with a large black bird. I thought "buzzard" when I glanced at him, until one afternoon when I finished with Mr. Fox, I strolled over to the bird's cage. He sat morosely perched
on a log. I spoke to him and he looked out at me with soft brown eyes, so gentle. Hardly what I was expecting! Watch enough Westerns and you have a picture of vultures circling over a doomed creature. Vultures represent death, and are shunned. I asked permission to enter his cage and to bring him food which was mostly meat. In the hot sun the odor in his cage was most unpleasant. The bird himself was very clean. The bird plopped down from his perch to the ground and began ripping the meat apart, gulping down sizeable chunks. He would swallow, then look directly at my eyes. He allowed me to stroke his feathers. Not at all a vicious raptor. I have no way of knowing how he felt, he always appeared to know me when I came and I did not always bring food. I felt a connection. I also felt sad that due to an injury, he would never again soar.
Back in upstate New York many years later when I was working with injured wildlife, a farmer brought to me a Turkey Vulture which he had found flopping about in his field.
The bird had been shot, his wing broken, and he had sustained a chest wound. There were very few of his relatives in New York at that time, so whoever had done this must have done it from ignorance and possibly fear. I took him to the Vet who worked with me. With no anesthesia, we cleaned his wound and bound his wing. He never offered to bite-and with his beak he could have inflicted real damage if he had wished to. I kept him in a large cage on my porch. He was the most gentle of any of the wild animals I cared for. I gained a rather
odd reputation while he was in my care for when driving I would immediately stop and pick up any unfortunate victim of the highway, bringing home dead squirrels, opossums, and the like. He healed over the summer. Since I had no flight cage, I transferred him to a rehab center which could accommodate him. I believe he eventually returned to the wild.
When I moved to North Carolina, I had vultures enough to make my days. My son, whose home was across the field from mine, had a big lightening blasted tree which was a roost for many Turkey Vultures in the evening. In the morning they would stretch their wings wide while sitting, as if to dry the dew from their wings before they took to the sky. So beautiful, the way they ride the thermals, those large creatures hardly ever flapping their wings, but soaring up and around in lazy circles. They often followed high above me when I walked with my dog through the fields. I guess that is why some people feel dread when they do this, but I felt joy in their company. One day I realized just why they followed Daisy and I when I watched as they dropped down to clean up where Daisy had left a poop. Nature's garbage men. They are often seen in the southern states along the roadways and they do an amazing job of clean up, leaving absolutely nothing to decay.
This coming week there is to be an air show at the DDay Memorial here in Bedford. I will plan to be outside watching the stunt planes and the acrobatics. But nothing those pilots can do will thrill me like watching my spirit birds on the wing.
Turkey Vulture.
I saw my first Turkey Vulture when I was 22 years old, working in a veterinary hospital in Stamford, Connecticut. A client told me about the nature center there and how they needed volunteers to help care for the "inmates". When I went to offer my time, I was immediately charmed by the fox. He was as tame as a dog and badly in need of grooming. His heavy red coat was matted and dirty. So I began with him. Nearby was a
cage with a large black bird. I thought "buzzard" when I glanced at him, until one afternoon when I finished with Mr. Fox, I strolled over to the bird's cage. He sat morosely perched
on a log. I spoke to him and he looked out at me with soft brown eyes, so gentle. Hardly what I was expecting! Watch enough Westerns and you have a picture of vultures circling over a doomed creature. Vultures represent death, and are shunned. I asked permission to enter his cage and to bring him food which was mostly meat. In the hot sun the odor in his cage was most unpleasant. The bird himself was very clean. The bird plopped down from his perch to the ground and began ripping the meat apart, gulping down sizeable chunks. He would swallow, then look directly at my eyes. He allowed me to stroke his feathers. Not at all a vicious raptor. I have no way of knowing how he felt, he always appeared to know me when I came and I did not always bring food. I felt a connection. I also felt sad that due to an injury, he would never again soar.
Back in upstate New York many years later when I was working with injured wildlife, a farmer brought to me a Turkey Vulture which he had found flopping about in his field.
The bird had been shot, his wing broken, and he had sustained a chest wound. There were very few of his relatives in New York at that time, so whoever had done this must have done it from ignorance and possibly fear. I took him to the Vet who worked with me. With no anesthesia, we cleaned his wound and bound his wing. He never offered to bite-and with his beak he could have inflicted real damage if he had wished to. I kept him in a large cage on my porch. He was the most gentle of any of the wild animals I cared for. I gained a rather
odd reputation while he was in my care for when driving I would immediately stop and pick up any unfortunate victim of the highway, bringing home dead squirrels, opossums, and the like. He healed over the summer. Since I had no flight cage, I transferred him to a rehab center which could accommodate him. I believe he eventually returned to the wild.
When I moved to North Carolina, I had vultures enough to make my days. My son, whose home was across the field from mine, had a big lightening blasted tree which was a roost for many Turkey Vultures in the evening. In the morning they would stretch their wings wide while sitting, as if to dry the dew from their wings before they took to the sky. So beautiful, the way they ride the thermals, those large creatures hardly ever flapping their wings, but soaring up and around in lazy circles. They often followed high above me when I walked with my dog through the fields. I guess that is why some people feel dread when they do this, but I felt joy in their company. One day I realized just why they followed Daisy and I when I watched as they dropped down to clean up where Daisy had left a poop. Nature's garbage men. They are often seen in the southern states along the roadways and they do an amazing job of clean up, leaving absolutely nothing to decay.
This coming week there is to be an air show at the DDay Memorial here in Bedford. I will plan to be outside watching the stunt planes and the acrobatics. But nothing those pilots can do will thrill me like watching my spirit birds on the wing.
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