Unlike the negative connotations when chickens are involved…having your buzzards come home to roost is a good thing. At least from my admittedly critter-centric viewpoint. When I looked across the river and saw the multiple dark forms of more than dozen turkey vultures sitting, like a troop of black-robed Lammergeier throughout the top of a large hackberry, I took them as an omen of good fortune.
In normal years turkey vultures seldom show up hereabouts before mid-March. In fact, the legend of the Hinkley buzzards and their annual March 15 return to the ledges above the Rocky River, near Cleveland, is nowadays an offbeat news story of international fame. Buzzard Sunday, held the first Sunday after March 15, attracts tens of thousands of visitors. And just like clockwork, you can expect the big birds to be winging about overhead, visible stars in the celebration.
Though I live in the southwestern corner of the Buckeye State, which is a long way from Cleveland, the vulture's yearly vernal reappearance locally generally comes surprisingly close to mirroring the March 15 date of their more acclaimed Hinkley kinfolk. This year, however—which has proven an unseasonable anomaly from the get-go—the buzzards made it back early. Real early. I saw several vultures wheeling around over a nearby field nearly three weeks ago—which, at a month before, is the earliest date ever in my experience.
Still, buzzards over a field a mile from here and buzzards at roost across from the cottage are two different matters. I was absolutely delighted to see them back along the river once again. I've enjoyed roosting vultures on the island every year since moving here. The somber scavengers are now more than trustworthy spring harbingers—I'd like to think we've become old friends.
So from one old riverbank resident to another…welcome home!
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16 comments:
Grizz: Beautiful image of the vultures perched across the river. That uniform, creamy background is stunning.
Our vultures (Turkey and Black) don't leave us for the winter here in the central Mid-Atlantic; they're here year-round. In fact, our local vultures (and coyotes and foxes) feast on the road killed deer we collect and distribute around a "body farm" for decomposition and reincorporation into the ecosystem.
And just a tiny note of correction from an old (former?) northeast Ohioan: the Hinckley river around which the buzzards roost is the Rocky River (not Rock River).
Lucky you to be able to look out on these magnificent creatures.
Scott…
Morning light, away from source point—and maybe a little moisture for even dispersal.
I'm kinda on a break line here in re. to when the summer resident vultures flap off south for winter. Most years, they've all departed by late October or the first week of November. But if I drive an hour-plus east-southeast, say below Washington Court House, I might see them for another month. Down by Ironton, they could be around much of the winter if it isn't too harsh. The reverse is true on the spring migration—none here much before mid-March, but an hour-plus south at least several weeks earlier.
In addition, while I seldom see black vultures here during the summer, one county south or southeast and they're rather common.
The first year I moved here I was both startled and pleased to learn there was a buzzard roost smack across from the cottage. I spent hours watching the big birds—their early-morning sun-bathing, the way they came sailing home whenever the weather took a turn for the worse. they delight they seemed to take gliding at high speed through the thick timber on the island as they showed off to their roostmates, fishing along the river (yep, I've watched them corner and catch fairly large suckers and carp), and just so many quirks and characteristics I never knew before. They are truly neat birds—ugly, but neat, and marvelous flyers.
For the first few weeks I thought my buzzard flock numbered 12-15 birds. Then I got better at counting them as they flew in to roost: 17-21. The season progressed. The buzzards nested (in name only) laid eggs, raised young. My counting skills improved: 25-30. As summer passed the count climbed—35, 42, 51, 67. Then the leaves began drying, and later thinning…and by the time my feathered pals were set to leave, the actual flock turned out to be way bigger than I realized. On the morning of their departure, which that year was November 3, I counted over 205! And I'm sure I missed some. Hey, counting buzzards on the wing, even when they're winging in to roost, is dang near impossible with any leaves on the trees.
Why they leave when they leave still puzzles me. It isn't because of bad weather—cold, sometimes, but not nasty. And there are still lots of roadkills around, November being a good month for skunk/raccoon/possum activity, not to mention gray squirrels in their endless quest to outfox Buicks. But leave they do.
Finally, appreciate the call on the Rocky. That was just an editing miss; I know the river, have fished it practically from beginning to end. I thought I wrote Rocky and just misread my error every time. But I've now added the "y".
Weaver…
I really do enjoy them, and I hope they hang around. They usually spend the summer somewhere on one of the three long, narrow islands opposite the cottage, though last summer they were too far away for me to keep them in sight. I'd see them flying in and out, but their actual roost trees were several hundred yards away.
HI GRIZZ - I love how you know of such nature habits and lives of your river friends - from fish to buzzard and all other of God's creatures - you are so a part of it all and I love that about your world, and about you. I know some habits in my little piece of God's creations - and the cycles of my life are wrapped in theirs and I love that too - and your comand of language to create an image along with your skilled photography, well, it is always a gift to come here and spend some time in nature with you on the river. Seems you are feeling better, yes? And by the way, my amazing Mom is getting stronger every day. She is very brave.
Love to you my friend
Gail
peace......
Where do the vulture nest near you? We've got old stone quarries in our preserve that they use to construct aeries, and one black vulture has been using the hayloft in an underused barn for nesting for the last two years; I imagine she'll be back this year if she made it through the winter. So, once they fledge their chicks, the adults and immatures come back to your roost tree--is that it?
Gail…
First of all, it's wonderful to hear that your Mom is improving. She seems to have one of those indomitable spirits which is so admirable—and such a lesson to us all. I hope she is able to enjoy this spring and her life; I know you'll enjoy her. She's a treasure.
Second, I suppose I do know quite a bit of nature and nature's ways—at least relatively speaking. But there are lots and lots of folks out there who know a whole bunch more. I've immersed myself in nature and the outdoors literally since birth. My parents both grew up in rugged, near-wilderness rural areas, and knew birds and tress, wildflowers, the ways of creatures and plants great and small. They loved rambling in the woods and along streams. Dad was a serious fisherman. So I grew up learning directly from them, and later on, expanding upon that base.
I'm a fairly competent general naturalist. Not an expert by any means. I would say I'm an expert fly fisherman; possibly an expert freshwater angler; and a fairly proficient saltwater fisherman. I'm a pretty good nature/landscape photographer. A really good cook. I know my way around a lot of world literature. Can play a dozen or so instruments. Am fairly knowledgeable in the history of early eastern North America, especially the Great Lakes areas and the Appalachians. And on a good day can write whole paragraphs of simple declarative sentences. I have a few other skills that are passably competent.
Now, the list of the things I can't manage, can't master, and just plain suck at is longer than the chain behind Marley's ghost. Some of them are the sort of skills every other guy—and about half the gals—I know can do with their eyes shut, like replacing the brake pads on my pickup. Or soldering a sweat-joint in plumbing. I know nothing about wiring. It takes me five minutes to text the word "no" on my phone. I don't have a clue when it comes to the stock market. And those are just a few practical things…the list expands exponentially when you get into real-word knowledge.
Bottom line, I'm like a lot of the critters along the river, Mr. Mole coming to mind—a master in my own back yard, but lost a mile from home.
Hi again - I SO love how you 'see' yourself, both humbly and proudly - a wonderful balance I might add. It just makes me love you all the more.
Love Gail
peace......
Scott…
Speaking only of turkey vultures…
The roost is on the island across (75 feet) from the cottage. I keep saying it is a series of three long, narrow islands…but in fact, for the last couple of years, since an old channel was reopened following a long bout of storms and high water, there are now really four islands. And I expect at one time, decades—perhaps centuries—ago, only a single island.
Anyway, these islands stretch for maybe a quarter mile. At their widest point they might be 100 feet across. They're maybe 6-8 feet higher than the normal pool level, though the island across from the house has a sort of rocky knob on the upstream end which rises to maybe 12-15 feet above pool. When the river gets really high, once every year or so, this knob is the only portion that remains above water.
All the islands are heavily timbered—and a big portion of those trees are sycamore. Many of the sycamores along the banks are leaning, because their root mass is undercut by the stream. Every so often one falls. For this reason, constant succession, they're not too big—the biggest 3 feet across, but most 2 feet or less. Away from the bank, however, on the island's interior, they grow much, much bigger—3, 4, 5 feet in diameter, and often several boles in a clump.
The TVs nested smack across from the cottage the first year I lived here, and the second. The third year they moved about 75 yards downstream and roosted there two seasons. Last year they were another 50 yards downstream and over on the back side of the island.
Now, I've never actually gone looking for nests—and with turkey vultures, "nest" is seriously overstating their construction level; more like a stick raked here and a leaf or debris clump shoved there—but I've stumbled upon maybe a dozen. All were at the far upper end of the series of islands, as far away from the roost area as possible. And every single one was in a sycamore hollow. In one I found three eggs, in all the others either a single chick or a pair of eggs.
As I'm sure you'd understand, being another Buckeye lad, there are tens of thousands of sycamores along any creek or river. And a high percentage of them have hollows—at ground level or very near, as well as in their upper portions. Every nest I found was close to the ground. I would guess that sycamore hollows are the local substitute for caves and ledge-holes, and I can't imagine there aren't vulture nests all up and down the river, along the banks, and not just on the islands. I've also stumbled upon several vulture nests along various other area creeks over the years while smallmouth fishing.
I can only assume that the nesting vultures and chicks are part of the roost flock. You certainly see young and older immatures mixed in—but it's surprising how tough it is to closely monitor the birds even when they're living (well, sleeping) not much more than a long stone's throw away, and you watch them coming and going every day.
I'm definitely a buzzard fan, though. :-D
Gail…
I'd sure like to think I'm being humble…but trust me, I'm being flat honest, too. I'm a quirky, specialized critter. I love books and birds, woods and wildflowers, fishing, rambling, music, good eats, friends, family, and just lazing around laughing and talking and having fun. I don't give a hoot for most organized sports, though I played football, and was on the tennis and fencing teams in school, and rodeoed later on. I'd rather go camping in the northwoods than go on the fanciest organized cruise. (Nothing strikes me as less fun than being trapped on a crowded ship with a multitude of semi-intoxicated, gluttonous, party-hearty seniors.) I like dressing up and going out to snazzy shindigs…but I'm most comfortable in jeans and tees and sneakers. I'd really rather shop at Wal-Mart than Neiman Marcus. I've been wined and dined at some of the fanciest restaurants by some of the richest people, I've hobnobbed with movie stars…but I love eating in rural mom & pop cafés listening to some of the old boys tell tales handed down from their grandfathers, of old days and old ways and that strange light somebody once witnessed up on yonder hill right before they heard those screams cut through the chilly October night.
Lord knows, I have my many, many, many limitations.
You don't want to take too long of a nap outdoors in your yard ,you might recreate a hitchcock film.
AfromTO…
Turkey vultures hunt mostly by smell rather than sight. So while they sometime exhibit a curious streak, in a shy sort of way, about my goings-on around the cottage, when I stretch out for that nap, providing my prostrate carcass is not emitting ethyl mercaptan, which is one of the gasses produced by rotting flesh which they home in on when looking for a meal, I'm probably safe. And if I am emitting said fumes…well, guess who's for dinner!
Lord, you make me smile!
Robin...
There's plenty enough serious stuff in life to go around...I say everything else is for having fun.
if you are emitting said fumes guess who doesn't have a lot of friends...
AfromTO…
True, but at that point I don't think friends are a big concern.
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