Turkey vulture is all guts, no glory
Durango Herald, April 12, 2007
Becky Gillette, Program Director

It's rare to get an up-close look at a turkey vulture, and most folks would probably say they'd rather not.

The vulture evokes images of animal carcasses, flies and the rotten stench of decay. Cartoonist Gary Larson gets honors for spooky renderings of birds in trees, hunched over and lurking, waiting for their next victim, usually wearing sunglasses.

Indeed, the turkey vulture has less-than-classy eating habits - it walks inside the bellies of dead animals while thrusting its head and beak into the flesh. But someone has to do nature's dirty work, and the turkey vulture is well-equipped for the job. A featherless head serves an important hygienic function - sun, wind and rain swiftly remove any bacteria and leftover bits of carrion. The bald, pale red head also gave the bird its common name, for its similarity to the wild turkey.

Potential bacterial growth or infection is a problem for the vulture's legs and feet as well. Highly acidic feces do the trick here - by defecating down their legs, they give themselves a little anti-bacterial bath, and get an evaporative cooling effect to boot. They also have extra-nasty stomach fluids, which combine with partly digested food for an offensive and smelly upchuck that warns off potential nest-invaders.

Despite its grim reputation and somewhat unappealing behaviors, the turkey vulture is a highly adaptable and talented creature. Easily distinguishable in the air, the turkey vulture wobbles from side to side, its 6-foot wingspan held in a V-shaped dihedral. Pilots have reported seeing them at 20,000 feet, though they use little energy to get there.

The turkey vulture soars on rising currents of warm air, called thermals, and can float for more than six hours with nary a wing flap. Hawks and eagles sometimes follow along to take advantage of the vulture's wind-finding talents.

Our local turkey vultures migrate to Central and South America for four to six months each winter, and are adapted to life in tropical and temperate forests, savannas, grasslands and deserts.

Eating little or nothing along their migration route, they can travel as much as 200 miles in a day. Occasional swoops or dives at speeds as much as 60 mph help them retreat from mobbings by ravens or jays.

About two weeks ago, I counted 21 turkey vultures circling above my house. They're a sure sign of spring, one that we don't usually put on the list with daffodils, cherry blossoms and the American robin.

This spring, I'd like to honor the turkey vulture - for its effortless grace and skill, for its clever adaptations and for all the dirty work that so often goes unappreciated.