50 days of observations, insights, and contemplations...
by Tyler Volk
Tyler Volk’s “Mind Watching” Series Table of Contents
Day 47 Vultures in Morning
I needed to spend the day packing up the trailer, in preparation to leave the next day. Soon it would be goodbye to my local southwestern ecosystem in the mountains and hello to my family and friends in New York and my job.
Why did ancient humans cluster at the thirty-room Dittert site? It’s scary out there! Wild carnivores could eat you! Why do the cliff swallows cluster their cozy mud nests under rock edges along the valley below the dam at Blue Lake? Clustering provides many eyes, which can increase the level of protection. There are benefits of finding mates and, for humans and probably birds, who watch the behaviors of each other, in the exchange of information useful in survival. Therefore at Dittert site each ancestral human joined in song with others on long, cold winter nights. And in the nearby canyons the swallows chirped as a community.
Freud claimed that the development of civilization led to a deep, individual discontent, because our natural urges were continually stifled. That is one way to put it. We do make a trade-off, though not often consciously. We allow ourselves to be programmed by our surrounding culture. We agree to wear social shoes and take paths with aspects that are pre-established to be able to step ahead with others in collective progress that provides, ultimately, individual benefits.
Before I started the busy day of packing, I drove out very early in the morning to once more see the vultures. They always roost for the night near the bridge where I “discovered” the inner mental whirlpools. The birds had become a regular stop on my often-repeated bike loop. Just several days earlier, in morning, I had lucked into spying a huge flock of the wide-winged, dark giants spiraling in the sky, all riding an updraft coming off a nearby cliff face being warmed by intense, direct morning sun. Today I wanted to see the actual birth of this lofty spiral. So I took the car to get there quickly, and even fixed a bowl of cereal to eat breakfast while I waited for the vultures to leave their nighttime roosts in the tall cottonwoods.
I waited by the roadside for a long time while they waited in the trees. I was sure my timing was good, but, hey, every day is different. Eventually a small group did form, spiraled quickly upwards high into the sky (not lingering low in the air, as they did several days before). Then those took off en masse to the east. Fifteen minutes later, a few more flew up out of the trees and then others followed, all forming a second group, which rose and twisted like a tangled rope in the sky. This second vulture group eventually headed northwest. And then, emptying the trees, a third group coalesced up in the air. This flock circled higher and higher until the birds were nearly out of my sight so way above, and then a few leaders broke off for the south and the whole group soon joined that pathway.
Thus was the start of their day. The vultures were going to have a day of experiences, just like me. A special day, different from all the rest of their days, with adventures in their quest for carrion in the wilderness, with breathtaking views and vulture games played in the updrafts, all the while carefully soaring to minimize the use of flight muscles. The vultures blend the mutual aid they provide for each other while in bands with lots of time in solo flight. Perhaps an afternoon rainstorm will force them to return early or find shelter in a cliff niche miles away from their home trees, those now empty cottonwood roosts to which they will faithfully return tonight before sunset.
© 2025 by Tyler Volk
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Ed -- yeah, I'd vastly prefer not paying close attention to politics. I've always liked to keep up just enough…