The Case for Turkey Vultures

A huge shadow with broad wings glides over the ground. Look up! Above is an enormous bird, dark as its shadow, wings fading to the color of clouds, red head peering down at you. Do you feel a shiver of dread? Fly on! I’m not dead yet. The turkey vulture is no one’s favorite backyard bird. They are neither cute, nor colorful, nor charismatic. But they deserve some more love. They’re amazingly adept flyers. They clean up after us. And they’re abundant in the River Towns—even more so in the fall, when migrating birds can fill the sky.

Very large, twenty-five to thirty-two inches long, they have a wingspan of almost six feet. They’re dark brown, but from a distance, seem black, with light gray edges trailing the underside of their wings. Their featherless red head resembles that of their namesake turkeys. But the hooked beak and large talons mark them as a raptor, a bird of prey.

Because they’re almost as large as bald eagles, flying turkey vultures can be mistaken for the more venerated species. However, unlike majestic eagles, which soar with flat wings, these vultures hold their wings in a distinctive V and seem to teeter back and forth.

Every wobble is actually a micro-adjustment to airflow, a technique that enables the big bird to fly slowly, at low altitudes. That’s important because turkey vultures are fresh carrion eaters. Unlike most birds, they have an excellent sense of smell: They scavenge not only by looking for a carcass but also by sniffing out its pungent odor. (One component of that aroma is ethyl mercaptan, which pipeline operators add to scentless methane gas. Circling flocks of vultures indicate leaks.) Their acidic stomach enables vultures to digest decayed food. The featherless head is also an adaptation to their diet: rotting flesh doesn’t stick to it.

Turkey vultures benefit from our car-dependent lifestyle, which yields a roadkill banquet. Their immune system protects them from carrion-borne illness. By disposing of dead animals, the vultures help prevent the spread of disease.

In the River Towns, turkey vultures are year-round residents, commonly observed flying over open areas (fields, waterways, and exposed ridges, such as Peace Valley Nature Center in Plumstead or Goat Hill Overlook in West Amwell). As heated air rises, it creates thermal currents that they ride—up and down and around, maybe just riding for the joy of flying. In October and November, great flocks of soaring turkey vultures appear in the River Towns.

These are migratory birds that breed farther north and fly south as far as South America.

Eagles, hawks, and other raptors have calls and cries, but turkey vultures rarely utter a sound, though they are social birds. Groups perch on utility towers or dead trees. At sunrise, or after a rain, they spread their wings like black capes. For some atavistic reason, the sight of those looming silent birds seems ominous. But they’re just warming up.

They may not inspire a hug, but turkey vultures are lovable birds once you get to know them.

Susan Charkes is a writer, poet, and birder. Her recent poetry chapbook, Nursling of the Sky (planbpress.com), imagines a woman metamorphosing into birds.