Feasting on a Carcass
When you do as much driving as I do, especially on the back hills of rural Tennessee, you become accustomed to the sight of deceased animals that chose the wrong time to cross the road, zigged when they should have zagged, froze in terror in front of an oncoming vehicle.
You also get used to seeing turkey buzzards or turkey vultures. They appear majestic with their impressive wing spans, long dark feathers and, until you get a closer look, might even mistake them for an eagle or large beautiful bird of prey. However, these nasty fowl are scavengers. They use their powerful wings to soar high in the sky, looking for dead creatures of all shapes and sizes, then swoop in and make a feast of the carcass.
Earlier today, on my way to a Community Action Board meeting, I was hit in the nose by the unmistakable stench of deceased animal. Surrounding it was a flock of turkey buzzards in the tall grass gorging themselves on the repugnant meal. I never saw the remains but the feathered opportunists gave it’s location away.
In my life I’ve met people who might be considered vultures. They’re always on the look out for someone who is wounded, hurt, in pain. They search diligently for an opportunity in another’s time of weakness and frailty. They’re hoping they can benefit from a time of crisis, an unfortunate event. They often look impressive, big smiles, soothing words, can even be mistaken for a friend. However, this noble persona is only a disguise to hide their intentions and voracious appetites. There is no caring or empathy for the dead or dying. They’re only concern is gaining from someone else’s loss.
A poem; “Illusion” I penned a couple of years ago about turkey vultures:
with your beak stuck in the air high browed and looking 'round descending from on high an archangel coming down with keen crystal eyes you see the world as yours to take soaring with the clouds earth-bound creatures are your prey talons outstretched, sharp and at the ready squeezing, tearing, grasping that which satisfies hunger driving you among lowly ones as they scamper soiling yourself briefly then returning to the skies perched majestically above it all a belief you're God's crafted sculpture but up close a lowly scavenger not an eagle just a vulture