What Died?

[OK, I know this is the country and everything, but as I sit here at my mom's new computer, set up by my dad in the dining room well over a month ago, I'm looking out the sliding doors, listening to the wind chimes Leah bought my parents on her first or second visit to Sonoma back in like '99...and all I see are buzzards.]

[Turkey vultures, or buzzards, are very common in Sonoma. I remember seeing them wheeling in slow, lazy circles in the hot, blue sky on summer afternoons. But they rarely perched nearby, preferring a high aerie among the many eucalyptus planted nearby, and I never had that clear an idea of how BIG they are. Think of your average turkey, but get rid of that stylish Elizabethan ruff and add a seven-foot functional wingspan. And paint it black, because they are as black as decay.]

[Nine of them are perched on the fence behind the fence separating my parents' property from the adjacent land, all in row, with about a foot between them. And they're all focused on this one corner of the property kitty-corner that I can't quite make out. They smell something. I watched this old guy walking around that end of the property yesterday afternoon. I wonder...]

[Maybe I'll draw the blinds, drink this lovely Noceto Sangiovese Mom bought last year on our trip to the Sierra foothills, and softly sing "Kum Ba Ya" until the sun sets.]

[Seriously, I count eleven buzzards now...]

Previously Next

[Still later (3:44): OK, this woman in a shapeless gray flannel garment just came out and shooed all the buzzards away and ambled back into her hovel, chuckling. What is SHE hiding, I'd like to know...]

[Later still (4:00): I just got around to reading that Wikipedia article I linked to above. The collective noun for vultures is a "venue." That's so gay! But check this out: "The Turkey Vulture is gentle and non-aggressive." Ha! They didn't see the ominous cast of that venue's shoulders as it perched on the fenceposts yonder. Just damn well sayin'.]