June 9, 2010
I was driving in to work today and came upon a road-kill. A turkey vulture was sitting atop it and tearing off pieces as I approached in my car. The vulture was not immediately intimidated by the size of my matrix and lifted its wings up and out to “scare" me off. It thought better of it a few seconds later and flew into a nearby tree, to watch me pass. Then as I turned onto route 141 where I can see the workings of a growing gravel pit, I noticed a flock of vultures circling over the torn and scarred earth. How symbolic to have vultures, harbingers of death and destruction hovering over the dying earth.
I remember my first experience with vultures. I was about 12 years old and we were visiting relatives in Pennsylvania. Our older cousin, Jonathan, took us for a hike, through farmers fields, past cow pastures and up onto a nearby mountain. In one of the fields there were a dead animal and a flock of vultures raucously feasting. At that point, they seemed as tall as me. Jonathan led us very close to the birds, which were not the least intimidated by us. They hissed and lifted their wings to increase their visual size. I was thoroughly frightened, but I was not about to show it to my cousin and my sister and brother. I skirted the scene as far from them as I dared without looking like a chicken; but I couldn’t help imagining the vultures plucking my eyes out.
On a more pleasant note: I checked out the swimming hole in the evening yesterday. The beaver was sitting on the sandbar near the opposite bank. I watched it for a few minutes as it ate, then moved to the bank and returned to the sandbar with a twig of alder. As I watched it was oblivious, then I heard a giant smack in the pool below me, the lookout beaver spotted me and let out a warning smack on the water before diving under. The other beaver quickly swam up stream and around the bend. My beaver now has a friend. I hung around for a while, but neither one returned.
A "friend"! Is that what they call it nowadays? I saw a grouse do its broken-wing dance the other day to lead me away from its nest. Fortunately I was on horseback and without my dogs.... A turkey busted out of the high grass right under our noses a few days earlier and spooked my new horse, who headed north while I continued east....
ReplyDeleteouch! That's one of the reasons you would never get me on a horse. And why not a "friend" sometimes I think friends are the best way to go!
ReplyDeleteYesterday, while driving away from a friend's house, I saw a poor fawn - maybe only a week or two old - doing its best to wobble away as fast as it could on its four gangly (and still un-coordinated) legs so it wouldn't get run down by a motorist it sensed coming up behind him. He looked as steady on its feet as if he was on roller skates. Fortunately, we were on a quiet road, so I was able to safely stop and let the poor little guy get its bearings back. When it finally ambled off into the alders, it turned and looked at me as I drove slowly by. Mom was there somewhere too, I like to think. I also like to think that I was its friend during his moment of need, even if "friendship" isn't customarily defined that way. Certainly many others would have demonstrated the same kindness, so what's best of all to think is how maybe Nature abounds with little deeds of friendship for one another. But I suppose from the perspective of that neighborhood vulture you saw earlier, I wouldn't have been much of a friend at all. Nature is so complex, isn't it ... so hit and miss.
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