No one was more surprised than myself when I looked out the window into our back yard on Saturday, just after noon. I saw several large crows gathered around a large brownish “blob” in the yard. Looking closer I could see the brown blob was a very large bird—oh my—a turkey vulture! I ran for the camera and tried to quietly sneak out onto the deck.

There were two of them. One had its wings spread wide, just sitting on the ground; the other was busy eating something. I tried my best to be quiet, but they heard me and took flight. One flew into the woods, the other perched in our big oak at the edge of the yard and allowed me take some photos. After the vulture left, I went down to see what was so interesting. It had been pecking away at the marrow in one of the old dog bones!

I know most people think they are ugly with their featherless, naked heads, but they have a beauty all their own. You’ve got to admit they are awesome. Just look at that wing span!

I found this poem to go along with my images. I hope you enjoy it!

Turkey Vulture
by CB Follett

Black leather wings
spread to dry in the early sun,
they perch on fences like great bat-birds.

The naked rubber head: red, wrinkled.
Eyes piercing as Picasso’s,
tearing beak, their ripping claws.

But when they fly,
when they launch themselves
like a single feather

into thermals curved as the hills below
when they glide,
controlling the wind

they are air creatures
beautiful black sweeps across the sky
efficient, spectral, superb.

Caught in the act of raiding the bird food barrel once again is my little mouse friend.

I don’t know what kind of tree this is, maybe something in the birch family. When I first saw this tree with its peeling bark, I wanted to use it as a notepad. Surely you can see why.

This gorgeous sycamore is just one of the old trees on the grounds of Ringwood Manor. The conditions were just right the other day when I drove by for catching its graceful white limbs against the clear blue sky.

It’s been an interesting day. This morning I opened the lid on the bird seed container in the garage and saw two shoe-black eyes staring back at me. A field mouse. I had not snapped the lid completely down and he had been having a feast. It’s easy getting in there, but not so easy getting out. So, I got the lid from the garbage can, put it down by him, he climbed on and as I raised his elevator, he jumped off and quickly scampered away. He and I have gone through this routine before.

The bird feeding area really needed to be cleaned up of spent sunflower shells, so I took a bucket and broom and got to work. I was pretty intent on my task and when I finally straightened up to spread the new seed, I looked over to my left and there in the driveway were Ursa, Major and Minor just observing me. Three black beary bodies all in a row. Did I panic? Heck, no. They weren’t doing anything; just standing there looking at me. I spoke softly to them, telling them that they could come and get some seed after I’d left. I went back into the garage, and they went back into the woods next to the house. I was surprised that they didn’t come to the seed right away and preferred instead to play in the woods. Maybe they wanted to be sure that the crazy woman that babbles on and on was not around anymore. After about twenty mintues they arrived for breakfast. You can see *NEW* photos here in the Bear Diary. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen them.

Then on to drop Sailor and Hailey off at the groomer’s, and on to the grocery. Have I mentioned before that I just adore our ShopRite? People shopping hum along to the oldies playing over the sound system. Wait—they’re making an announcement. It’s the store manager’s birthday (and someone else’s) so they break into the music to wish them Happy Birthday. The oldies return once again only to be interrupted by yet another birthday wish; this time from the bakery section. You gotta love it. I always find myself singing along with the oldies and don’t feel a bit out of place.

In the produce section, a sweet-looking older lady approaches me with a softly spoken “Miss?” She’s carrying a bunch of baby bananas and she asks me if I could please break the bunch in half for her. Her hands aren’t strong enough and she doesn’t want all of them. She thanks me profusely like I’d done something really wonderful. I take the other half of her banana bunch just because they look so tasty. She thanks me again. At the deli counter one of the people behind the counter is bantering back and forth with someone they know an aisle away.

On the way home just before I turn onto our street, an SUV is coming down the road out of control. They are fishtailing from one lane to the next, tires squealing. I don’t know exactly how or why they’ve lost control but I hope I can stay out of the way. All of a sudden the car veers straight off the road across my lane (not a close call for me), down the side of the road and hits a tree—hard. The speed at impact had to be 50mph or more. I sit stunned for a second, thinking what I should do. The wheels of the SUV are spinning wildly, churning up huge chunks of snow and mud. At first I’m thinking the driver is trying to back out, but then it occurs to me that the driver must not be conscious. Do I run to see if they are okay? Or do I head back down to the bottom of the hill where two police are directing traffic? I decide for the latter and speed off down the hill. The two police jump into their cars and head off in a matter of seconds with sirens blaring.

The neighbor at the end of our street is at the accident scene and the doors of the SUV are open. Good. Someone is right there to see to her (I can see it’s a woman now) and I feel good that I had the police there so quickly. I guess I could have called 911, but since the police were so close why not just get them? I told the officer what I had seen and asked him if she was okay. He said, well ... not really, but she’s alive. I didn’t stick around for the ambulance. They didn’t need another looky-loo, as by this time people from close by were starting to congregate to see what was going on.

So far the rest of the day has passed quietly. On my way home from picking up the dogs from the groomers, my neighbor was out in his driveway so I stopped to ask him about the accident. He said she was unconscious when he first opened the door, and he turned the vehicle off. We don’t really know the extent of her injuries but he did say the SUV was pretty compressed from the impact in front and they had to cut the door off in order to get her out. He said they took her by ambulance, but then airlifted her by helicopter, so she must have been pretty bad.

Now as I look out the window at 3:30 p.m., Doris is paying us a visit. She must be the laziest bear in the world—she lays down in what I call her prayer position (front feet curved inward) and just laps up seed. She’s getting a special treat as I didn’t expect another bear visit today and sprinkled some cheese popcorn out there that I had bought and didn’t like. So, both sets of bears on the same day. I guess I should be honored.

That’s enough excitement for one day I should think. Don’t you?

Doris says: “I’ve been praying for popcorn, and look, here it is!”