Wispy clouds slowly turned to shades of pink and muted red as the sun emerged over the eastern horizon.
Coming alive atop the peaked tin roof of an old barn, three turkey buzzards stretched awake. Not having eaten since the previous afternoon when they devoured armadillo carrion, the birds were ravenous.
The leader soared in a loop from the barn roof with the others following.
Rising a good 50 feet to a better vantage point, the alpha bird scoured the landscape waiting for something to trigger his keen sense of smell.
Soon, a breakfast of road-kill cottontail was on the menu.
Though urban legend has it they prefer decaying flesh, buzzards are just as happy with fresh meat.
I watched this scenario play out one morning this week, although I didn’t know it was a rabbit until I drove closer. The massive birds watched my truck coming, and begrudgingly took flight only when I was nearly upon them. They circled and were back within seconds.
Turkey buzzards are homely creatures, bordering on scary-looking, which is why they often play the “bad guys” in cartoons. Even so, I am intrigued by their amazing flight patterns. Once high enough to ride air currents, a turkey buzzard can glide for quite a distance. A slight inclination of a wing changes altitude and raising one or the other sends them into a slow, steady turn. The ends of their wings have several single feathers that ornithologists call “fingers,” which adds to their in-flight appeal.
They often roost together at night. I’ve counted as many as 50 perched on a tall tower west of Walter Johnson Field in Humboldt. They also have been known to pick water storage towers and forlorn-looking dead trees, fitting their persona, for congregation.
Known for their keen sense of smell, the birds scored a 97% when scientists hid carcasses across a field.
At one time natural gas companies discovered pipeline leaks when turkey buzzards circled where the odorless gas tainted with a rotten-smelling chemical was escaping.
ANOTHER BIRD I enjoy watching, though one that is difficult to find here often, is the pileated woodpecker.
Pileated woodpeckers are larger than most local birds, up to 19 inches long and a wingspan as great as 30 inches. They have black-and-white bodies and a red crown atop their heads.
Before ivory-billed woodpeckers became extinct 70 or so years ago, the two woodpeckers frequently were mistaken for each other.
The pileated version prefers trees whose bark is loose enough to go after grubs and insects. Sometimes they nest in the trees after drilling out their cavities. A tree in the south part of Camp Hunter Park has such a hole once frequented by a female pileated.
