cycling the buzzards

I am living a western movie cliché.

You know the scene. The old prospector is struggling across the desert in search of water that just may save his life. He looks up. And there they are. The angels of death. Circling buzzards.

That is what we called them when I was growing up in Oregon. Buzzards. But they were (and are) not buzzards. The "buzzards" in the westerns were most likely turkey vultures.

We have turkey vultures here on the Costalegre, as well. Lots of them.

But, when I look up from my reading in the patio of the house with no name, the wheeling birds I see are not turkey vultures. They are black vultures. And I have become quite fond of them.

There is a large communication with a wide array of antennae almost in my back yard. It not only brings me some very good cellular connection; it is also the roosting place of a wake of black vultures.

In the six years I have lived in this house, they have given me an opportunity to watch and learn from them. There are, of course, the obvious moments when they start their day by forming up like a squadron of B-17s off to bomb Regensburg. Only to return at night after a mission fully accomplished.

Then, there are the unexpected moments. The vultures appear to have favored spots on the tower. If a young interloper roosts in a spot claimed by a senior bird, the older bird will push the youngster off of the tower fluttering franticly to gain purchase as it hurtles down the interior of the tower. It appears that the dethroned do not always rise again.

Like all vultures, black vultures are part of nature's cleanup squad. They have great eyesight, but they lack the sensitive smell of turkey vultures. Like a puny nation feeding off of the resources of a great power, the black vultures will often trail turkey vultures and feed off of carcasses they could not have found on their own.

Turkey vultures are happy to find carrion. As are black vultures. But black vultures are not always that patient. They regularly attack and kill new-born calves, making them ready targets for Mexican ranchers.

Black vultures have a tie with Indian tribal culture in Mexico. They are often portrayed in Maya glyphs as bringers of death or misfortune. The veal candidates would most likely agree.

Not too long ago, I read an interesting study in The Economist. Scientists had long known that carcasses that vultures feed on are replete with anthrax and other nasty viruses and bacteria. The question was why vultures were not affected by the less-beneficial riders in their food.

The answer was rather simple. Enzymes in the guts of the vultures protect the meal from killing the diner. Most of the disease-carrying organisms are excreted in urine and feces that all New World vultures use to cool their legs by urinating and defecating on themselves. Or, as my neighbor Mary and I know too well from our patios, clearing the bowels seems to be de rigueur before the birds roost for the night. That makes all of the feathers and white blobs we find around our pools just a little bit suspect.

A blotchy patio is a small price to pay, though, for the enjoyment the vultures provide in their comings and goings.

The only question I have is where they go during the heat of the summer. Each early summer they simply disappear, to return in the fall along with the blooming barcinos and the return of the northern tourists.

I have no idea where they wander off to. According to the experts who write bird books, black vultures are not migratory. At least, not those this far south in Mexico.

On the other hand, there is a very good possibility that these black vultures simply have never read those books. So, they go where they will.

All I know is that the vultures are back. The barcinos are in bloom and ready for decorating local the Night of the Dead altars. And the northern tourists are starting their migration south.

It is a world of cycles.