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I've always heard that the Turkey Vulture has an
extraordinary sense of smell, and I saw a demonstration of
this today. I was birding high on UT 39 around the Monte Cristo
area. After seeing a nice collection of birds on Eli Ridge Road at about
mile 45.5, I continued a half mile further north and drove up the
short distance to the summit of Mt McKinnon at 9081 feet. The view was
spectacular. Along a ridge to the east, I saw a Turkey Vulture sailing and
riding the updrafts. Several more appeared, until seven or eight
generally moved along the ridge. I didn't think anything of it until they
began to concentrate over one particular spot. As several of the
birds swooped lower than the tops of the tallest firs, it dawned on me that
their presence at that place was not random.
Always up for a good wildlife show, I descended
from the overlook quickly, sped along the highway a half mile or
so to where I thought the birds were, and bumped along an off-road dirt track
for a tenth of a mile. I waited. There they were! The vultures
were uncharacteristically low--lower than the treetops, alternately coursing
between firs and aspens and abruptly popping up over them. They rocked and
teetered from side to side like a snowboarder in a half-pipe. It was time
for me to look for the object of their interest.
In the shade of a small colony of aspen saplings I
spied a round and shiny object. I had the odd feeling that it
was a child's playground ball. I also noticed that two parallel rows
of flattened grass led to the spot. The realization that I
might come across something other than the deer carcass I expected to
see hit me like a ton of bricks. I walked over to the ball with
apprehension. The bright and shiny object was an animal's
stomach. Here I'll depart from my usual tendency to describe in great
detail what else I saw. Let it suffice to say that the vultures had
directed me to a pile of gore. A very large animal had been
gutted and the entrails left to the environment. There was no hide,
meat, or bones. As I inspected the scene before me, I realized that the
act to place this pile here was quite recent. Not only were the
vehicle tracks still obvious due to the flattened grass, but all the organs were
whole. Only the flies had found the smorgasbord. To
my dismay, the wind shifted and blew a whiff of eau de pile of gore in my
face. It barely smelled at all; I was expecting to be
overcome.
I returned to the highway and thought
through the possibilities that would result in someone choosing to gut
a large animal in August and take all but the usual discarded parts. It
could have been a collision with a moose, cow, or elk; or poaching. I
couldn't come up with any other logical explanations. That last idea
caused me to report the scene to the Rich County Sheriff's
Department. No matter the circumstance, the entrails shouldn't have
been disposed of in this manner. UT 39 is not the back country, and 1/10 of a
mile off the highway where people pull their RVs is not the proper place to
dispose of entrails.
I set aside the mystery and birded along a few
other side roads. On the way home I decided to check on the vultures'
progress from a distance out of view of the you-know-what. Two vultures
had landed in the 10-foot-tall aspen saplings next to their dinner and another
five surveyed the scene from a tall fir. The fir vultures were a mix
of black-headed youths, first-year birds and adults. I marveled at
the olfactory prowess that allowed them to quickly find the
pile. I couldn't smell any odor until I was about 10 feet from it;
they came from who knows how far for the feast. I estimate they were a
quarter mile away when I first saw them working along the ridge.
Perhaps it's difficult to be thankful for birds
like the Turkey Vulture, but I suppose they have their role in the cycle of life
just like other birds do.
Kris
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