birds of ill-repute?

      Lately, at dusk I've noticed dozens of large black birds assembling in the trees at the intersection of Green Street and Route 66.  These birds are not crows which, although they have their own twilight conclaves, are much smaller. And crows are noisy. These big dark birds are eerily silent as they hover and tilt in the breeze before settling down for the night. I thought they might be eagles until I realized their heads are far from noble. A quick consultation with Sibley's revealed these ominous creatures to be none other than...vultures.  Yes, birds of ill-repute right here in Hudson, NY, The Friendly City.
     The turkey vulture gets its English name from its resemblance, when at rest, to the wild turkey. The likeness is clear enough: perched in a tree, the turkey vulture also has a big ol' butt and a ridiculously tiny head. But the wild turkey sports splendid iridescent plumage and is garrulous; the turkey vulture
is dressed as somberly as a judge and, in my observations, says nothing.  Its Latin name hints at another reason why it's not everyone's favorite bird ---  Cathartes aura: purification, but with undertones of catharsis (i.e. vomiting/purging).
      While not terribly fastidious about their diet (they eat dead fish, dead birds and small dead mammals), they much prefer a freshly-killed menu. But they have their standards: turkey vultures will not touch rotten roadkill. For centuries, vultures have been seen as disease-spreading vermin.  Research has shown that their corrosive digestive fluids destroy bacteria and viruses. In reality, they serve as the our environment's sanitation engineers.
      Once we are alerted to something we've been previously ignorant of, we tend to see it everywhere.
(Buy a Subaru, see them all over.) Turkey vultures are no exception. Last week, from my perch in the Vinyl Village, I began to notice them in the skies across Hudson.  The biggest ones must have a wingspan of about five feet, and to see them aviate is a marvel. They rarely confront the predominant winds but instead bank against them, kite-like, sniffing for carrion. When there's a lull, they lower their wings from a V and glide elegantly, effortlessly on the updrafts.  No wild turkey can fly like this. Looking up, I notice they aren't all black; their underwings are dove-gray.

Really so bad? (photo by Donald Bourque) 

      Yesterday, as I turned onto Nine Partners Road going north on the Taconic Parkway, I happened on two turkey vultures tearing into the plump carcass of a raccoon.  I don't know what was the most remarkable aspect of this sight: the queue of crows lined up just beyond the vultures, impatient for their turn at the buffet, or the raw heads of the big birds.  Black, gray, pink: hardly the plumage of a hanging judge....more the colors of a useful citizen of our world.

A useful citizen