And Then The Vultures Came

Meditations on the circle of life.
Love it or hate it, the death of one creature means life to someone else on the food chain.

I was standing by the deck door windows on Thursday morning, looking out, when I spotted a huge bird soaring through our woods. Then it was joined by another. And another. I suddenly realized that they were vultures, and what they were there for: the dead fawn.

I experienced a moment of horror and revulsion: that poor little thing; how could they? But then I got out my camera and monopod and started snapping pictures, as the birds took turns gathering around and eating: several on the ground, with little kerfuffles breaking out; a few more birds waiting in the tree branches overhead.

My husband: You realize, most people would find this disgusting. But you find it somehow exciting!
Me: I am my father's daughter! Lee would be sitting here with his binos, watching the whole thing!

And then my husband made a handy list of all of the dead creatures he and I can remember that I have buried or otherwise disposed of on our property. Here goes: cats, deer, mice, chipmunks, birds, toads, frogs, snakes, rabbits, squirrels, and groundhogs (both dead and UNdead).

Based on my own personal experience, I think that when they sell you a house, they should issue you a bonus (free) shovel, sturdy gloves, a pair of work boots, and a book of guidelines about what to do with all of the creatures that die on your property.

And then, to make things worse, the Mama Doe showed up, looking for her poor little fawn, and we about had a breakdown over that, it was so sad. And we both remembered that when I moved into this house and property, back in summer of 2004, one of our frequent visitors was a Mama Doe that wandered around, lost, looking for something.

Well, on my first night in my new house, I found out what she was looking for: after moving the final load of stuff from my place in town into the house in the country, we walked around outdoors and discovered the dead body of a fawn by the electric meter, along the side of the house.

I took a shovel and placed its remains into a large bag (I didn't have a yard cart at the time), and dumped them along the deer trail behind our house, where I was sure the Mama would find it. Welcome to your new home, girl. Here's a shovel. Buckle up, Buttercup. Get ready to handle Dead Things. This will only be the first of many.

I don't know what is a worse outcome for the doe: learning the worst, or never knowing at all, and being frantic with seeking. So that is where I put this fawn too: along the deer trail, where I knew Mama would find it, and know, and be able to stop searching.

We called up my dad the morning it happened, and I was almost crying by the time I was done telling him about the fawn. "There is mortality among the wildlife, Doll Baby," my father said, matter-of-factly.

Well, there's mortality all around us. In fact, as the Boss once said, "Everything dies, baby, that's a fact. But everything that dies . . . someday comes back."

Here is a lesson that my father is trying to teach us: that there are things that happen in life, things that NONE of us want to experience, that we must learn to accept and live with, and somehow go on.

Most recently, the death of his oldest daughter, the death of his grandson, the death of his big sister, who adored him and baked him wonderful treats. I can't tell you how many times he has spoken these words: "These are things we need to learn to accept." I am trying, Dad. I am really trying.

I told the story of the fawn on Facebook, and my friends have such tender hearts; they have been such a comfort to me. One of my friends commented, when I told them about the vultures, "Life eternal. She lives on in the vultures." And that is the tale of how our fawn got her wings.

So one life ends.
So others are fed, and live on.
As we try to make peace with loss, and with death,
And with outliving the ones we love,
The circle of life goes on.

I know who and what I am, and I know where I came from. I got my compassion from my mother. But my wild heart could only have come from my father. My soundtrack song must be this one: Olivia Vedder, Eddie Vedder, and Glen Hansard, with My Father's Daughter.

I am my father's daughter
Come hell or high water