Sad Bird Words

By TS, an unfortunate ornithologist

Today, I saw two vultures tear apart a dead bird’s carcass at the park creek. Well, I didn’t know they were hungry vultures at first. I thought they were innocent turkeys taking a swim. And I was excited about this rare sight — I never see turkeys in my neck of town. They’re usually in the hills, leisurely crossing streets and blocking traffic.

Anyway, a woman was photographing the two birds, so I stopped to take some pictures as well, assuming that this was some interesting event that I, too, would want to preserve on my camera roll. W. called me on the phone as I was picture-taking, and I loudly announced my discovery of the rare turkeys. I must have sounded silly to all the bystanders nearby. And there were many, since it was a beautifully sunny day after heavy rain.

It was only upon returning to the creek on my way home did I see two webbed orange feet nestled in the dirt where the birds had been pecking — a carcass — and two red-beaked birds perched in the sparse branches above. Some ladies passing by said the poor creature was a duck, but to me, it looked more like one of those regal egrets I saw every so often, which took deliberate, majestic steps through the water, as if time moved at half speed. These sightings were so bizarre that I often wondered if only a single, adventurous egret was visiting the park as a fun excursion. I felt sad thinking that the dead bird was not part of a flock but a unique creature with a determined spirit.

I deleted my photographs of the feasting vultures/turkeys from my phone. Two birds picking at spoils of victory is not the worst image that nature has to offer, but I still preferred not to keep record of it. I felt sorry for the egret, who I had barely known but had always loved. And I felt sorry for myself, for reasons I cannot explain.