Vultures and the nature of waste management

Migrating birds are now returning to Wahkiakum County, including turkey vultures. This homage is for them

Wonderful experiences often occur in the simplest and most serendipitous of circumstances. I had a bit of hamburger tucked back in the refrigerator that went sour and, as I live in the country and there isn’t the formality of a garbage can here, I tossed it out of its package and into the nearby woods, not 100 feet from my house.

Within the half-hour, to my delight, there were eight turkey vultures in the alders along with a handful of crows. It was a great view from my upstairs window, watching without startling them as they went to the ground, crows dispersing noisily, and making all too short work of the burger. Within ten minutes, they were gone. For some reason, I was somewhat surprised not only that these vultures found the rank goodie in the first place but that there were so many of them and so soon. This is a good lesson that we should never underestimate the adaptations of our animal brethren to their niches.

The turkey vulture (Cathartes Aura) is a large bird that soars in thermals with its inverted “V” wings wobbling to and fro searching for carrion. With its keen sense of smell able to detect odors at just a few parts per billion (yes, billion), the turkey vulture is the great garbage disposer of the sky, but it doesn’t end there. Not only can the turkey vulture detect and find carrion, even below forest canopy, it can eat the rotten fare with impunity due to its extremely acidic digestive fluids, enabling it to resist diseases like anthrax, tuberculosis and others that may have killed its food in the first place.

Of course, we recognize vultures by their bald, reddish head that allows them to dig deeply into a carcass without tainting feathers and tender skin with rotting and potentially toxic flesh. I love looking at them at close range with binoculars to see those pates, looking like wizened crones whose hair has fallen out. Some see them as ghoulish harbingers of death, but I chuckle at their unique visage and ability and am glad they’re around to “clean up” calf afterbirth; the odd dead elk, deer, or cow; and whatever else might potentially endanger us and other animals with disease.

When it comes down to it, all creation can be reduced right down to the elemental. Still, it’s amazing how all the slimes, molds, bugs, worms, eggs, fungi, etc. make it happen so that the upward creative process begins again; nothing wasted, only life reconfigured. I’ve often wondered how it is possible for so many vultures to make a living in the “waste” business, as it were. I’ve never seen a nest and have only ever seen them lunching on a corpse a few times. Yet, they persevere and thrive in our modern landscape.

Mostly I just see them soaring in a wide sky, biding their time, which is such a welcome sign of spring. My half pound of rotten burger has given me new insight. Happy birding!

This article first appeared in the Willapa Hills Whistler and is reprinted with permission from Willapa Hills Audubon Society.