March 30: The hawk counter's dreams

Even in her sleep

she sees swirling kettles

of vultures overhead.

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March 17: Vulture

At this point
any sign of spring will do.
A vulture soaring? Yes.

November 2: Day of the Dead

Over the highway
seven soaring vultures--
what's below them unseen.

June 25: Heat of the moment

Seven vultures ride
thermals rising off the road.
I'm a warm body.

May 14: Vultures aloft

Emd of day: clouds roll in.
High over the mountain
eight vultures soaring.

April 9: Vultures on a roof, and...

Leaving work tonight, I noticed several dark silhouettes lined up atop the roof of a neighboring house. As I watched, one took flight and soared over the lawn: a Turkey Vulture!

The vultures often circle above this part of the river in late afternoon. Perhaps the damp weather had grounded them. Or perhaps there was something dead in the yard. Altogether five or six birds perched in a row there, one or two occasionally leaving for a short flight, their dark, hulking forms rather ominous in the grey light.

Vultures perch, wait
for the rain to stop.
I am alive.

******

AND...
This is my 1,000th post! If this weren't National Poetry Month, I might take a little break from posting. (Maybe I will anyway...) Here's what I've got coming up for poetry readings:

• Thursday, April 11, Rockland Public Library, 6:30 pm reading with Elizabeth Tibbetts and Dave Morrison
• Thursday, April 18, Lithgow Library in Augusta, 6:00 pm reading/music with poet Dave Morrison and musicians Anna and David Patterson
• Monday, April 22, 2013 Inauguration Poet Richard Blanco will read at Camden Hills Regional HS, 7:00 pm, tickets $10/$5 for students--don't miss this!
• Wednesday, April 24, Rockport Public Library, 6:00 pm reading ("Birds and Spring")
• Friday, June 14, Owl and Turtle Bookstore in Camden, 6:00 pm reading with seven other poets from the new "Take Heart" poetry anthology
• Monday, June 17, Carver Library in Searsport, 6:30 pm reading with fellow "Take Heart" poets Elizabeth Tibbetts, Linda Buckmaster, and Carl Little 

There are a lot of readings going on now, so please get out and support your local poets! We truly appreciate it. 

September 4: Cranes and vultures

Attended an exhibit at the Camden Public Library tonight showing the work of two bird photographer friends, Karl Gerstenberger and Keith Carver. They have traveled around the country together photographing birds, including a couple of trips to Bosque del Apache NWR in New Mexico to shoot the snow geese and sandhill cranes that gather there in fall. As I stood there admiring a photograph of two cranes in flight, I was reminded that this morning, when I pulled into work, a kettle of 16 turkey vultures was soaring over the river. Not quite as dramatic as a flock of trumpeting sandhill cranes, but one of those cool bird moments nonetheless.

Sixteen soaring vultures.
Do they, like cranes,
bring good fortune, long life?

August 29: Hurricane

No, there's no hurricane here. Barely a breeze to rustle the shining green birch leaves out my window. It's a perfectly still, calm, beautifully sunny late summer afternoon. Crickets are humming, a stalk of goldenrod sways under the weight of a bee. A kettle of vultures soars gracefully above the river, tilting in the updraft, spiraling ever higher into the bright blue sky.

That's why it seems surreal to think of Hurricane Isaac, thousands of miles to the south, battering Louisiana with torrential rains, high winds, flooding, and power outages. Unless you've got loved ones in the storm's path or have Southern roots, it's so easy in this quiet little pocket of the world to forget that elsewhere things aren't going so well. Not that we shouldn't enjoy these halcyon days. But we should also be grateful, really savor them. And keep in our thoughts those whose homes and lives are in danger right now.

It's been such a wonderful summer here in Maine--so unusually sunny and warm. Conversations about the weather all repeat the same belief that we're going to pay for this perfect season somewhere down the line--with a big storm, a long winter, something bad. We can't help thinking that way. Such old-style Puritanism is bred into us as New Englanders. And at some point, we will get horrible weather, some disaster like Hurricane Irene a year ago in Vermont, so we're always right in the end. But really, we all know that Nature brings what she brings, regardless of what we deserve. And we weather it the best we can.

So calm this morning
vultures had to flap, awkward
in early thermals.

May 3: Vulture flying

To soar, vultures ride thermals, circling on warm air currents rising from the earth. Early in the day before the ground has had a chance to warm up, especially on a bleak, chilly day like today, these large raptors often have to flap hard to keep aloft. I watched one vulture slowly flying over the ridge of Mount Battie this morning, an ungainly activity for this most graceful of soaring birds.
 
On this cold morning
vulture labors, wings flapping,
to gain altitude.
 

April 3: Moon with vulture

Coming home from work early this evening, early enough that the sky was still a deep blue, I looked up to see a vulture soaring above a fat, white, gibbous moon just rising over Mount Battie. I'm not sure why the juxtaposition struck me as so remarkable, as none of the elements--mountain, vulture, moon, blue sky--were unusual in and of themselves. But taken in all together, they made me pause, breath held for just a moment, until the vulture soared upriver and out of sight.

Soaring late in day,
vulture catches up with moon.
Both crest the mountain.

October 12: Lingering Vultures

Soaring above the tinted trees and the river this morning were a pair of vultures, dark wings spread wide. The two raptors tilted and turned in ever-widening circles as I watched. While most hawks have headed south at this point, vultures linger on. Last year I remember seeing them into November, and they returned as early as late February this year. Pretty soon, they won't even bother to leave. Is this a sign of global warming? Or is this just the continued northern dispersal of a southern species, one that first arrived in midcoast Maine just over 30 years ago? I have a strong memory of seeing the first ones appear in the skies over Bald Mountain when I was a teenager playing tennis at the Snow Bowl courts. I'd just seen them for the first time in Florida, so it was with some surprised that I recognized them here. Vultures nest on Bald to this day.

And, if vultures are here to stay, do we have enough unfrozen dead meat around to feed this species through the winter? Unlike their black vulture cousins, turkey vultures only eat what's already dead. I recall a news story of a woman in New York who elicited complaints from her neighbor because she left steaks out on her roof to attract the vultures. What she saw as a beautiful bird others saw as a rather gruesome nuisance.

I'm not sure I'd toss meat out in my yard to attract them, but I do love to watch them soar. And there's something particularly dramatic about seeing these large, black birds circling above the blushing autumn forest.

Before they head south,
vultures glory in fall air,
fiery leaves below.