For some reason I have been noticing turkey vultures lately. Lots of turkey vultures. Everywhere. Out in the grass seed stubble they’re snacking on the mice that went through the guts of the combines. Along the side of the road they’re cleaning up squirrels who saw a car coming and decided to change direction at just the wrong time. When I sit on the hill behind the house they spiral over the treetops in the distance. When I walk through the pasture their shadows race across the grass in front of me. They’re even showing up in my writing.
Vultures have never been on my radar before. Red-tailed hawks are my raptor of choice. Graceful, powerful, free, screaming into the wind. I’ve never really thought about vultures, other than to be kind of grossed out by their eating habits and naked heads. But for the past few years I have been noticing vultures. Everywhere. So I finally decided to read up on them. And you know something? Vultures have got some shit figured out.
Vultures are masters at using the resources available to them. I can learn a lot from these birds. I’ve worked so hard trying to control the outcome of things that I’ve exhausted myself. Who knew it would be vultures who would show me how to go with the flow. How to stop trying to control things and learn how to accept what life gave me.
They let the wind lift and carry them. They may not be the prettiest bird. They may not be the most graceful of fliers. But they can soar on a breathe of wind for hours. Just think of all the energy they save by not having to flap all the time. Just think of all the energy I could save by not getting in a flap over things.
They let the sun clean them. Eating carrion is dirty work. So the vultures have some built in defenses against disease. Naked heads being one. (No feathers for the bacteria in decaying dinners to get a grip on.) And then the vultures sunbathe. They open their wings and face the sun. And the heat and light chase out the parasites hidden in the dark feathers. Huh, exposing monsters to the light to evict them. I sense a recurring theme here.
They let death feed them. They eat death. This one made me think for a long time. I watched them out there, floating on a breeze, tipping a wing to spiral through the clouds, living. And it came to me that they take death and turn it into life. The take death and they use it to fly. To rise up.
And then there's this:
Dad’s motorcycle. Glistening black with red accents. Other people may have angels watching over them.
But me? I guess I’ve got vultures. Glistening black with red accents.
Love,
Chris
Vultures have never been on my radar before. Red-tailed hawks are my raptor of choice. Graceful, powerful, free, screaming into the wind. I’ve never really thought about vultures, other than to be kind of grossed out by their eating habits and naked heads. But for the past few years I have been noticing vultures. Everywhere. So I finally decided to read up on them. And you know something? Vultures have got some shit figured out.
Vultures are masters at using the resources available to them. I can learn a lot from these birds. I’ve worked so hard trying to control the outcome of things that I’ve exhausted myself. Who knew it would be vultures who would show me how to go with the flow. How to stop trying to control things and learn how to accept what life gave me.
They let the wind lift and carry them. They may not be the prettiest bird. They may not be the most graceful of fliers. But they can soar on a breathe of wind for hours. Just think of all the energy they save by not having to flap all the time. Just think of all the energy I could save by not getting in a flap over things.
They let the sun clean them. Eating carrion is dirty work. So the vultures have some built in defenses against disease. Naked heads being one. (No feathers for the bacteria in decaying dinners to get a grip on.) And then the vultures sunbathe. They open their wings and face the sun. And the heat and light chase out the parasites hidden in the dark feathers. Huh, exposing monsters to the light to evict them. I sense a recurring theme here.
They let death feed them. They eat death. This one made me think for a long time. I watched them out there, floating on a breeze, tipping a wing to spiral through the clouds, living. And it came to me that they take death and turn it into life. The take death and they use it to fly. To rise up.
And then there's this:
Dad’s motorcycle. Glistening black with red accents. Other people may have angels watching over them.
But me? I guess I’ve got vultures. Glistening black with red accents.
Love,
Chris