Lessons From a Buzzard Roost

I am not sure when I first noticed the return of the turkey vultures this spring. They are present all year long, with one or two spiraling high in the skies on warm days, but for the last three weeks a colony of more than thirty buzzards circled the skies just before sundown, and ultimately roosting in the woodlands of Ten-Acre Ranch. A couple of neighbors have even asked if there was something dead that was bringing the vultures into the area. I assured them it had nothing to do with a kill or death but if memory served me correctly, everything to do with this time of  year.

Recalling this phenomena, I looked back at photographs from nearly every late March or early April since 2010.  That was the year that I realized the turkey vulture was my spirit totem, and wrote about a profound experience with a vulture in the post, “My Totem, the Vulture“. Ever since that day, each time I see a vulture gliding high in the sky I remember the message of my totem friend, “Glide and soar – leave your carcass of troubles and worries behind”. The reminder has served me well for many years, but lately, a different kind of message seemed to come to me as I watched these magnificent birds circle above and roost in distant trees just before sunset.

This is about the only sunset we ever see since our woodlands are to the west of the house. Still, the orange, yellows, pinks and blues are gorgeous.

View to the west from our back porch at sunrise.

Flying just above the trees, looking for the best place to make a landing.

Each evening I walk a short distance from the house, into the woods with my camera, hoping to get better photographs of the vultures than I have managed in the past, but I come away disappointed. The best I managed last week was a short video clip, ruined when I got too close to the roosting site and scared up the large birds. The noise of their immense wings flapping to lift the great birds from tree limbs was much like the sound of heavy drapes flapping in a strong wind. Deflated at yet another foiled attempt to photograph the vultures, I walked back to the house. But I kept watch for their return – and they did, as one or three at a time circled back, swung around a time or two while just clearing the tops of the trees, then clumsily perching in the tops of the same trees as before. Over the next thirty minutes, more buzzards landed. Though it appeared most had settled down for the night again, one would occasionally take to wing and indulge in flight for no reason at all. As daylight dwindled, each bird settled on a roosting spot, sometimes shifting position a bit and occasionally having a bit of a dispute over possession of a favorite branch. Eventually, only still, dark silhouettes were visible from the back porch, where I now stood. If one did not know any better, the forms could be mistaken for clumps of mistletoe, or large squirrel nests in the trees.

This photo was taken in early April of 2016 of a tree just behind our house. This pecan tree was only used for roosting for a couple of nights in the spring, but later that year in October, vultures came to roost for a couple of weeks. I wish I knew how and why they pick certain roosting areas.

These two may be a pair. They were roosting in the tree next to the big elm where most were gathered.

I wonder if they share information on who found the best carcass to feed on that day?

This buzzard is taking flight after roosting a bit. The branch must not have been the right fit!

It is amazing that such a large bird can perch on a rather small branch.

Some vultures prefer their own space.

Sometimes landing on just the right branch is clumsy and takes a lot of flapping to get balanced!

From a distance, one might mistake the vultures for clumps of mistletoe or perhaps squirrel leaf nests.

This is about as close as I could get with my zoom lens. For some reason at night roosting vultures do not appreciate my presence, but during daylight hours I can walk right under a roosting tree and they do not mind me being near.

The next morning around 9:00, I made my way down the slope with the camera, doing my usual investigation to discover what animals had passed through the woodlands during the night. All sorts of prints and scat along the buggy path and animal trails told tell the story of woodland activity. As I moved towards the area where I had watched the vultures roost the night before, I noticed white droppings directly under two large trees. A single vulture feather lay discarded on the ground, more of a dark brown in color than the black I expected it to be. I looked up, but no buzzards remained. Not wishing to spend too much time dawdling about when I had work to do, I headed back to the house, following the buggy trail back up to the top of the hill. Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings both startled and thrilled me! Not so high above me, vultures took flight, one by one, circling and gliding just above the tree tops. I stood riveted to the woodland path, amazed at their graceful flight while weaving back and forth over the immediate woodlands. Several eventually flew off to the north and west, towards the orchard and river. After a minute or so, I noticed a few vultures remained, still perched above me. Their wings hung partially opened, for whatever reason, which made them appear as if they were prepared to take flight at any moment, but they did not. As moments passed, a few of the flying vultures returned to roost in the elm snag that towered above me. They did not seem bothered by my presence. I wondered about this return – were the thermals not uplifting enough this early in the day? If not, why did some of the vultures fly off in the distance? And then I got the message, as it often just occurs to me – they were waiting for a more satisfactory time to take off for the day.

Now that I understand vulture’s message about roosting, whenever I watch these beautiful creatures fly in for the night, I think of my own winding down and rituals for getting settled in the evenings. Perhaps I have always been too busy with work and concentrating too hard on what I think has to get accomplished before bedtime, that I cannot relax when it is time to rest. And each morning as I watch the woodlands awaken, I remember vulture’s gentle message to wait for the right moment to take flight. And if it does not feel good, or the conditions are not favorable, it is perfectly fine to return to a place of comfort and wait…

© 2018 Day by Day the Farm Girl Way…