High above our home in Woodstock, GA, is a north-south flyway for migrating birds. I love to hear the sound of sandhill cranes singing (National Geographic’s Crane Cam) as they make the long trip to and from South America. I watch with wonder as a flock hits an updraft, circles upwards for several hundred feet, and then continues on their way, slowly losing altitude until they find the next updraft.
Last weekend the flyward was full of turkey vultures, aka buzzards. I watched hundreds of buzzards heading south. They used the same updraft strategy as the sandhill cranes, but they flapped their wings much less and produced no music for those of us bound to the earth.
Buzzards aren’t my favorite bird, but I have to admire their itinerary.