Last winter, the big dog and I were beside Zarzamora Creek, just above the fork with Apache Creek. A turkey vulture riding the northeast wind swooped by, flying low and fast, covering 120 yards in three seconds. He turned and then worked his way back slowly, almost hovering.
His slow circles meant he’d found carrion along the upper creek. Within three minutes, 12 vultures were circling.
The flight feathers, viewed from below, appear white, especially at the wingtips.
The birds, flying at 25 to 30 feet, came on us suddenly. One, flying down wind, made tiny, nervous adjustments to his outstretched wings, looking like a middle-aged man crossing a creek on a fallen log. Another made the same adjustments casually, like a man adjusting his position in a recliner. The birds were adjusting their flight paths to avoid us.
We expect to be surprised by wonderful creatures in nature. It comes as an additional surprise that the wonderful creatures are surprised by us. For the vultures, the encounter was an unpleasant surprise, interrupting dinner.
Biologists have written about coyotes that live in urban environments. I remember, years ago, reading a piece that suggested the densest population of coyotes might be inside the city limits of Los Angeles.
Some species — such as coyotes, rodents and grackles — thrive around humans.
Turkey vultures seem to do well in this neighborhood. But I’ve not been able to find much about how they adopt to urban environments.
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