Cathartes Aura or The Wake of Vultures

People think we are no good scavenger birds, eating the remains of the deceased as if it is a delicacy. Those people are wrong, trust me.

We do not fly around in large circles looking for our next meal. Instead, we are circling so we can give those poor passed animals, a proper burial. We are not ugly buzzards, but rather the funeral homes of the animal kingdom. We are the grave diggers to all creatures, great and small.

One morning, right after the last rain of spring, my venue and I, were circling above the highway. You must forgive me, for I do not know the technical name for the road, for I (like many birds) am illiterate. It is a shame for I hear the badgers and moles discuss the most interesting literate. I digress. As we circled above the road right behind the bend that is surrounded by overlapping oak trees; we came upon a deceased hare, his dignity splattered about the pavement. We circle down and the wake consumes the asphalt. We assess the damage. The poor creature did not stand a chance. It must have been some reckless human teenagers, whipping around the corner at speeds greater than 55mph. The hare was probably late for dinner, his wife eager for him to return and play with the bunnies; and he did not see the speeding teens. Collision and the only causality was a member of the animal kingdom.

The wake and I clean up the victim and take him back to our nest. We send some other birds before us to begin funeral preparations. We return to the nest and place the hare in a lovely casket made of cedar and lined with the softest grass. We place a bouquet of lavender and lilacs. We then await for the family to come and pick up the deceased.