TURKEY VULTURES—Harbingers of Death or Good Friends to Humankind?
Early one morning—not too early, I’m retired—I'm working strenuously over my Keurig to brew a proper cup of coffee including an allegedly nondairy creamer that makes it palatable, when a crashing sound like an airplane falling on my house makes me drop the gourmet java to the concrete floor. I rush out the back door fully expecting to see a meteorite smoldering on my roof.
Instead, “[a] billowing black blanket of turkey vultures spread across the backyard.”
And yes, this is how my new novel, A Venue of Vultures, Book 1 of the Rancho Exotica Mysteries, begins. Drawn straight from real life… my real life. In the cozy-but-edgy mystery, two retired sisters (led to the body by the vultures) must play amateur sleuth to solve the murder of a bowhunter in their forest or risk spending their retirement in a Texas prison.
And my interest in a bird I’d never paid much attention to begins.
First, let’s set the record straight. That big, homely, black bird most people call “buzzard” is not. The avian monster you’re seeing is a “vulture.” The two types of vultures who inhabit North America are turkey and black. Turkey vultures are too large and slow to hunt and must rely on carrion. But black vultures have been known to prey on small animals. My novel features the turkey vulture because they just seem nicer. Not likely to attack and kill your pet Maltese and carry them away. They can barely lug around their own bodies.
A gathering of vultures goes by different names depending on what activity they’re engaged in. Vultures gathering on a tree branch (they’re quite social), a fence, or the ground are called a committee, volt, or venue. (I picked venue for my novel for alliteration purposes.) When they circle on the vortex high in the sky, it’s called a kettle, as it resembles a boiling cauldron. The fictional perception of vultures circulating over a dead creature, or waiting for them to die, is old folklore. Vultures are hefty birds who take advantage of the warm columns of rising air, floating on these thermals at high altitudes. That’s why you see them flying together in circles.
My favorite vulture nomenclature? When they’re engaged in a feeding frenzy on top of a decaying carcass, it’s called a wake. “Nature’s undertakers servicing the animal world,” as the female protagonist in my mystery novel informs her sister.
When I’m smack dab in the middle of this vulture congregation, it's a bit eerie. The way they're staring at me, I can't help but wonder if they think my days are numbered. These not-so-pretty birds are in front, behind, and all around me. They appear to be basking in the morning sun, spreading their wings as if warming up for their busy day. This is the horaltic pose. Typically, this involves vultures sitting on the open grounds or in tree-tops, facing away from the sun while spreading their wings.
The only sound a turkey vulture can manage is hissing, so don’t expect them to tweet you a tune.
Then, the smell hits me. I discover there’s a dead body on the acreage next to mine. (Not a bowhunter, but, sadly, a white-tailed deer.) Vultures have the best sense of smell in the bird kingdom because that’s how they find food. Their smellers are so sensitive they can detect dead meat from eight miles (13 km) away. They remove the eyes first, then the skin, start pulling tissues, and leave only a skeleton. They may not be pretty, but they serve a vital role in cleaning up our environment. What would our roads and highways look like if it wasn’t for vultures?
Another way they serve humankind is to lead authorities to a missing body. And supply forensic clues that may point to the killer. The skeletonized remains can tell investigators how long the body has been deceased (it takes vultures up to five days to turn a body into a skeleton). Location of body parts can provide clues to a killer’s MO (modus operandi).
With their wrinkled red heads and habit of vomiting when they're spooked, turkey vultures might not win any beauty contests, but let's give these big birds a little appreciation. After all, they do look quite majestic when they take to the skies.
[Check out this jazz tune by Ralph Bowen named “A Venue of Vultures.” Who knew there was a musical tribute to these incredible birds?]