For as long as I can remember, a pair of black vultures has arrived at Herrontown Woods each spring to raise their young in the corncrib next to this little red barn. We'd see them perched on the chimney of the derelict Veblen Cottage, and think them a bad omen. But in 2017, one of their two chicks was slow to develop, and we watched as the parents patiently tended to it until it could join them up on the Veblen Cottage roof. The word online is that black vultures mate for life and are devoted parents. As we watched the immature vulture gain strength and ultimately join its parents on top of the chimney, our uneasiness about vultures turned to affection. They do, after all, perform considerable custodial work in nature, cleaning up messes that the rest of us steer clear of.
If one thinks about it, our initiative at Herrontown Woods involves a great deal of scavenging, that is, finding promise in what the rest of the world has forsaken. The boarded up house and cottage, overgrown trails and a derelict pine grove filled with invasive species--these scenes of long time abandonment have been for us prize finds.
The past couple years, I've only seen one black vulture hanging out near the barn. Though I generally stay away from the corncrib, not wanting to disturb them, I have checked a couple times and found it empty. The story I told myself was that the male had lost its mate, and now returns as a bereft spouse each spring to linger and grieve.
On June 20 this year, when friend and hiker Georgette texted me that she had found a dead black vulture lying on the ground along the red trail that runs past the Cottage, I thought we were witnessing the end of an era.
It was a surprise, then, to come across the carcass and find not the last adult vulture but instead a bird that was clearly immature, with baby fuzz on the wings. The pair of vultures had been there after all, secretly raising their young.
As I took a close look at the fallen bird, one of the parents looked down from the ridge of the barn. What sort of grief does a vulture feel? It's not clear how the young bird died. There was no clear sign of damage on its body.
Having not seen the adult vulture, or vultures, since that day, I now tell myself the story that the pair have headed off for another year of scavenging, to return again next spring, to make another go of raising young. We'll see if my story proves true this time.
