Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Keeping my Cool
Here's another little piece where I alert the readers (and me) about leaving out the overused words and using other verbs that won't bore the readers
with repetition.
Keeping My Cool
They're big, black, ugly and they're up there every day. Zopilotes, Turkey Vultures. Also called Buzzards they are almost three feet long, six feet
of broad black wings, weigh about four pounds. As I lie comfortably in a lounge chair, Bloody Mary in hand, composing articles and stories for
magazines and the press, I can enjoy them, just overhead. I have always admired the birds, envied their aerial elegance, the exquisite freedom flight
accords them, a freedom I can never know. From time to time I have used the birds to color my stories about this part of Mexico. So far my
descriptions of the birds in flight have been impossibly bland, add little to the stories -- "the big, black birds wheeling, gliding on the thermals,
etc.,etc.....". Better to leave them out than to paint such a colorless scene. Fellow writers have failed to capture the majesty of the creatures
--"they wheel, soar, glide -- hover, hang like big kites...ya da, ya da, ya da...." I need to really watch them awhile; get to know them, pay
attention, find the words that may bring them to life, paint them against the sky with the same grandeur we lavish on the their cousins, the eagles.
If I tilt my lounge chair back a little I can watch them without moving a muscle. Today several birds are aloft just above my patio, the wind is
strong and gusty; a good day for observation. Now that I pay the proper attention I can see why the words fail. They are not just soaring, wheeling;
they are in constant motion. This wind is not a steady flow of cool air rushing from the beach, up this little bluff to my house. It is not a stream
of air, rather, it is great puffs; pulsing, softly now, a powerful gust, soft again, little short bursts, more gusts, a shoulder against an invisible
door. The birds are not possessed of a special kind of vision, some precognitive way to see the wind, anticipate the wind's wild vacillations,
changes taking place in tiny parts of seconds; all the birds' moves are adjustments--made at lightning speed, each subtle movement of muscle, bone and
feather in wondrous harmony.
These birds are not flying. Flying is flapping wings to propel the bird forward. Each vulture is making adjustments at incredible speed -- the
result allows the bird to stay aloft, in the same general area, without burning precious calories needed for great flapping movements of the wings.
As the wind gusts and wanes they fold the wrist of the wing, spread their primaries at the wing tips, fold and lower the broad tail feathers, smooth
the small coverts -- constantly rearranging the surfaces touched by the wind. At times they roll their bodies, tip both wings to decrease the lift;
in this attitude they slip downward and to the side, take up a new station a short distance away at the same height.
Now I can begin to understand what they are doing. The new and bigger question is "Why in the hell are they doing it?" The second Bloody Mary helps
me get closer. I let my mind and body drift aloft, enter the spirit of the black weavers. I imagine being buffeted by the wind gusts. I tighten my
small shrunken thumb, slightly folding a wing as the wind abates. Tiny muscles are now moving my wingtip primary feathers to stabilize my horizontal
attitude.
A breakthrough, a revelation. The big birds are using no more energy to make these miraculous adjustments than I do when I turn slightly in my
chair, toward the beach, to see a passing boat. Now some eduction is called for: these birds, just above my head, have been in the air all morning.
Since they have sharp eyes and an uncanny sense of smell (they can smell carrion from hundreds of feet in the air to a radius of five miles) they
would have discovered anything edible on the ground after the first few minutes. If we rule out this stationary routine as a part of mating, it can
only mean that the birds are up in the wind to regulate their body temperature and to conserve energy/calories. They eat on the average of two to
three times per month. It may be that they use less energy aloft, on the wind, than when at rest, roosting on the ground or on a cactus. On cold,
wet mornings I have seen them stretch their broad wings to catch the morning sun -- the same birds hold this Kodak Moment pose, let the breeze
dissipate the heat from their wings on July and August afternoons.
All this study has heated me up. I put down my glass, walked to the outdoor shower for a cool change of pace, walked cool and dripping back to the
lounge, resumed my studies. Now things are taking a very different perspective -- these birds were roosting, sensed the wind, HAD to go aloft to
conserve energy for as long as possible; to live another day to hunt for scarce roadkill. It's like they have a job. They dare not stay on the
ground, on the roost if there is an opportunity to conserve energy or body fat -- their lives depend on their being able to use the wind whenever and
wherever possible. This grand freedom I have so envied turns out to be a life-or-death injunction, not a flight of fancy.
Two of the beasts are now hovering very low, close to my position. They are c-cking their ugly, red heads to get a better look -- the eyes have a
nasty leer -- curiosity? Did we, however briefly, trade places? While my mind's eye floated with them, did they sense, if only for seconds, my
mystical intrusion, drop down to enter my cooler world? Could it now be envy?I'll make sure tomorrow. I may bring out a little bucket of ice, make
some more Bloody Mary's --- this time with real blood.
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güéribo
Nomad
Posts: 239
Registered: 10-17-2014
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I really enjoy these pieces, Osprey.
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captkw
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3850
Registered: 10-19-2010
Location: el charro b.c.s.
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Mood: new dog/missing the old 1
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I confess.....
you,Sir are a Asset to the written word !! Nuff Said !!
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sancho
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 2524
Registered: 10-6-2004
Location: OC So Cal
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Never have developed an affection for the Turkey Vulture,
but the Frigate bird is a different story. I rarely get too far
down the Peninsula, but use the Frigate as a signpost
I'm there
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Maron
Nomad
Posts: 458
Registered: 4-14-2014
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Keep the pen, keyboard or what ever you use handy. Your pieces are great. In your other life, what name do you write under? You bring joy to many,
THANKS
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Skipjack Joe
Elite Nomad
Posts: 8084
Registered: 7-12-2004
Location: Bahia Asuncion
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Air is a great medium. Perhaps you can write a story of how a fish feels when it swims. Or a sea lion.
Being a naturalist is very rewarding. And anyone can do it by just observing.
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wessongroup
Platinum Nomad
Posts: 21152
Registered: 8-9-2009
Location: Mission Viejo
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Mood: Suicide Hot line ... please hold
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Thanks I needed that 
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Kgryfon
Senior Nomad
Posts: 624
Registered: 1-27-2009
Location: East Bay, CA
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Awesome as usual
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baja43
Junior Nomad
Posts: 53
Registered: 12-21-2004
Location: Vista/Colonet
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Muchas Gracias
I see them everyday when we are at our Colonet beach house, and because of you, I'll never think of them the same way again.
Please give us more.
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watizname
Senior Nomad
Posts: 772
Registered: 8-7-2009
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Jorge, mi amigo. Be careful. If you're laying still in your lounge chair and only moving your elbow every once in a while to imbibe a little bloody
mary, I wonder if your birds are taking those "frail" movements as the "last throws"??? Maybe THEY are the watchers. Be sure to get up and move
around a little more. Drink something that has to be "shaken not stirred"
 
I yam what I yam and that\'s all what I yam.
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TedZark
Nomad
Posts: 171
Registered: 10-31-2014
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Absolutely beautiful! Gracias!
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pauldavidmena
Super Nomad
Posts: 1712
Registered: 5-23-2013
Location: Centerville, MA, USA
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Jorge - it's a bit of a cliche, of course, but your writing observes where others merely watch.
Also: my understanding is that turkey vultures prefer tequila versus vodka. Too much alliteration interferes with proper aerodynamics. 
[Edited on 4-14-2015 by pauldavidmena]
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BajaBlanca
Select Nomad
Posts: 13195
Registered: 10-28-2008
Location: La Bocana, BCS
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very nice!
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Udo
Elite Nomad
Posts: 6343
Registered: 4-26-2008
Location: Black Hills, SD/Ensenada/San Felipe
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Mood: TEQUILA!
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Mutes gracias for that piece, Jorge.
I learned a lot about the turkey vulture that I did not know. Interesting animal, plus I have a better appreciation of the bird.
Udo
Youth is wasted on the young!
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durrelllrobert
Elite Nomad
Posts: 7393
Registered: 11-22-2007
Location: Punta Banda BC
Member Is Offline
Mood: thriving in Baja
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Quote: Originally posted by Osprey  | Here's another little piece where I alert the readers (and me) about leaving out the overused words and using other verbs that won't bore the readers
with repetition.
Keeping My Cool
They're big, black, ugly and they're up there every day. Zopilotes, Turkey Vultures. Also called Buzzards they are almost three feet long, six feet
of broad black wings, weigh about four pounds. As I lie comfortably in a lounge chair, Bloody Mary in hand, composing articles and stories for
magazines and the press, I can enjoy them, just overhead. I have always admired the birds, envied their aerial elegance, the exquisite freedom flight
accords them, a freedom I can never know. From time to time I have used the birds to color my stories about this part of Mexico. So far my
descriptions of the birds in flight have been impossibly bland, add little to the stories -- "the big, black birds wheeling, gliding on the thermals,
etc.,etc.....". Better to leave them out than to paint such a colorless scene. Fellow writers have failed to capture the majesty of the creatures
--"they wheel, soar, glide -- hover, hang like big kites...ya da, ya da, ya da...." I need to really watch them awhile; get to know them, pay
attention, find the words that may bring them to life, paint them against the sky with the same grandeur we lavish on the their cousins, the eagles.
If I tilt my lounge chair back a little I can watch them without moving a muscle. Today several birds are aloft just above my patio, the wind is
strong and gusty; a good day for observation. Now that I pay the proper attention I can see why the words fail. They are not just soaring, wheeling;
they are in constant motion. This wind is not a steady flow of cool air rushing from the beach, up this little bluff to my house. It is not a stream
of air, rather, it is great puffs; pulsing, softly now, a powerful gust, soft again, little short bursts, more gusts, a shoulder against an invisible
door. The birds are not possessed of a special kind of vision, some precognitive way to see the wind, anticipate the wind's wild vacillations,
changes taking place in tiny parts of seconds; all the birds' moves are adjustments--made at lightning speed, each subtle movement of muscle, bone and
feather in wondrous harmony.
These birds are not flying. Flying is flapping wings to propel the bird forward. Each vulture is making adjustments at incredible speed -- the
result allows the bird to stay aloft, in the same general area, without burning precious calories needed for great flapping movements of the wings.
As the wind gusts and wanes they fold the wrist of the wing, spread their primaries at the wing tips, fold and lower the broad tail feathers, smooth
the small coverts -- constantly rearranging the surfaces touched by the wind. At times they roll their bodies, tip both wings to decrease the lift;
in this attitude they slip downward and to the side, take up a new station a short distance away at the same height.
Now I can begin to understand what they are doing. The new and bigger question is "Why in the hell are they doing it?" The second Bloody Mary helps
me get closer. I let my mind and body drift aloft, enter the spirit of the black weavers. I imagine being buffeted by the wind gusts. I tighten my
small shrunken thumb, slightly folding a wing as the wind abates. Tiny muscles are now moving my wingtip primary feathers to stabilize my horizontal
attitude.
A breakthrough, a revelation. The big birds are using no more energy to make these miraculous adjustments than I do when I turn slightly in my
chair, toward the beach, to see a passing boat. Now some eduction is called for: these birds, just above my head, have been in the air all morning.
Since they have sharp eyes and an uncanny sense of smell (they can smell carrion from hundreds of feet in the air to a radius of five miles) they
would have discovered anything edible on the ground after the first few minutes. If we rule out this stationary routine as a part of mating, it can
only mean that the birds are up in the wind to regulate their body temperature and to conserve energy/calories. They eat on the average of two to
three times per month. It may be that they use less energy aloft, on the wind, than when at rest, roosting on the ground or on a cactus. On cold,
wet mornings I have seen them stretch their broad wings to catch the morning sun -- the same birds hold this Kodak Moment pose, let the breeze
dissipate the heat from their wings on July and August afternoons.
All this study has heated me up. I put down my glass, walked to the outdoor shower for a cool change of pace, walked cool and dripping back to the
lounge, resumed my studies. Now things are taking a very different perspective -- these birds were roosting, sensed the wind, HAD to go aloft to
conserve energy for as long as possible; to live another day to hunt for scarce roadkill. It's like they have a job. They dare not stay on the
ground, on the roost if there is an opportunity to conserve energy or body fat -- their lives depend on their being able to use the wind whenever and
wherever possible. This grand freedom I have so envied turns out to be a life-or-death injunction, not a flight of fancy.
Two of the beasts are now hovering very low, close to my position. They are c-cking their ugly, red heads to get a better look -- the eyes have a
nasty leer -- curiosity? Did we, however briefly, trade places? While my mind's eye floated with them, did they sense, if only for seconds, my
mystical intrusion, drop down to enter my cooler world? Could it now be envy?I'll make sure tomorrow. I may bring out a little bucket of ice, make
some more Bloody Mary's --- this time with real blood.
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Bob Durrell
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durrelllrobert
Elite Nomad
Posts: 7393
Registered: 11-22-2007
Location: Punta Banda BC
Member Is Offline
Mood: thriving in Baja
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| Quote: Originally posted by Skipjack Joe | Air is a great medium. Perhaps you can write a story of how a fish feels when it swims. Or a sea lion.
Being a naturalist is very rewarding. And anyone can do it by just observing. |
Bob Durrell
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