I Call Them Buzzards
When I was a young boy in Blount County, East Tennessee, one of the things my buddies and I loved to do was explore caves. Any cave would do, and the object was always the same: to explore every passage, room, opening. Sometimes we would find names or initials and maybe dates scratched on the walls. Our goal was to go further and leave our marks beyond where anyone else had gone.
I once came to a narrow opening in the back of a cave, but the flashlight revealed a much larger opening beyond it. Maybe a big room no one had ever been in. I tried to crawl through that opening, but it was slightly too small and tight. How did I get through? I found that if I let out all my breath I could just squeeze through. Had I not been able to struggle through with no air in my lungs, I would not be writing this recollection today.
We had another close call in Cades Cove up in the Smokies. We had explored to the very end of Gregory’s Cave, perhaps a quarter mile. This cave has a long history dating back to the Cherokee Indians who were known to use it. We found some dry wood back there and decided to make a fire. We were sitting around the fire when we noticed the roof of the cave had disappeared. Instead, there was a new roof made of smoke, and the smoke was coming lower as more rose from the fire. There was no water to put out the fire. By the time we hurried back to the entrance we were crawling down low to stay under the smoke and be able to breathe.
What do caves have to do with buzzards? That connection took place at the Sheep Pen Cave, located on the banks of the Tennessee River near our hometown. I remember we came there in a small boat which was tied up down below the cave. I know we brought our sleeping bags and slept the night in the large cave entrance. I recall that during the night a tugboat hauling cargo on the river shined its searchlights up on us.
The next morning, I was crawling into a nearby cave opening and happened upon a mother buzzard sitting on the dirt floor. Not knowing quite what was expected of me, I reached out and grabbed hold of her. She responded by struggling and then vomiting profusely on the floor beside me. Sheesh! I launched her out the front of the cave and off she flew.
Vomiting, or regurgitating if you prefer, is a known defense strategy for buzzards. The odor is extremely strong and emptying their stomachs also makes them lighter to takeoff and fly away. I somehow doubt that this mother buzzard had been physically grabbed by many young boys, but this was her natural response.
After she was gone, I noticed that she had left behind a single large egg on which she had been sitting. What to do?
I decided I would take home this egg, hatch it, and raise myself a young buzzard. I know this does not sound like a promising plan, but this is exactly what I tried to do. I got the egg safely home and asked for my mother’s heating pad. I guessed at what the appropriate heat setting ought to be. I put the egg in a soft place and covered it with the warm pad. From day to day, I watched for a hatching buzzard chick, but none ever appeared. However, this effort did ensure that I have always had a soft spot in my heart for buzzards.
This brings me to an article I read about the fate of buzzards in India.
As we know, buzzards are scavengers. They mostly eat dead animals, often road kills and predator kills. This isn’t appetizing, but it is an important contribution to the environment we live in. Buzzards are a vital part of the cleanup crew.
In India, buzzards feed on the caucuses of dead cattle. But along came a drug (diclofenac) used to treat sick cattle, and this drug kills buzzards if they feast on cattle that have had it. Most of the buzzard population died before the drug was finally banned. And it has now been established that this virtual end to the buzzard clean-up function has led to the deaths of half a million people over a five-year period. This is reported in a study published in the American Economic Association journal.
Vultures are considered nature’s sanitation service because of the important role they play in removing dead animals that contain bacteria and pathogens from our environment – without them, disease can spread, says this study. Efforts are now underway to revive the vulture population in India, a slow and expensive process.
The decline of the vulture population in India has been the largest and fastest ever recorded for any bird species anywhere in the world.
So far, the population in the U.S. is stable and functioning well as nature intended. This stability is supported by legal measures. Our buzzards are protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. Populations are also relatively safe in Europe, but under considerable threat in Africa and Asia.
The next time you see those buzzards circling around overhead, say a little prayer of thanks. They are helping to keep you safe.
I realize my early effort to raise a young buzzard failed, but I did my best.
Afterword
I have always called them “buzzards.” To be factual and scientific, they are “vultures,” and “turkey vultures” in our part of the country. But “buzzard” was the common term where I grew up. I use this term just like I say “possum” and not “opossum.” I also say “lightning bugs” and not “fireflies.” And groundhogs are not “woodchucks” – never have been and never will be. Just saying.
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