TheBanyanTree: catching a thermal

[Julie Anna Teague]

A hundred or so Turkey Vultures moved onto my street, behind my 
neighbor's house where there are some very old trees and a thicket of 
undergrowth.  They roost in large community groups and often stick to a 
certain spot for some time--they've been there, now, since early 
Autumn.  They feed on carrion, and I have to say the roads in our area 
have been exceptionally clean of small dead creatures this winter.  
They are gruesome looking when hunched over on their branches, these 
two-feet-or-taller birds with their wrinkly naked heads and creepy, 
crooked beaks.  A fine homecoming to Blue Bird Lane dwellers on a 
gloomy winter evening.  But in flight, they are a different matter all 
together.  They have a five foot wingspan with a beautiful fringe of 
silvery flight feathers on the underside of their brown-black wings.  
Watching ten or twenty of them ride thermals over the tall pines, over 
the snowy landscape--gliding, still, unflapping--is the essence of calm 
beauty.  They lack the normal vocal organs of a bird, and so they don't 
screech or call out.  They simply float, silently, with their silver 
fringe fluttering in the breeze.

I was watching them one day, and a thought occurred to me.  These 
creatures are so beautiful when they are doing what they do 
best--flying, floating, circling on an invisible current of air.  They 
are so lovely and free looking, even more so than their frantically 
flapping, tiny friends who are blessed with comely breast feathers and 
melodic voices.  And then my train of thought continues:  When do I 
look that free?  What am I doing when, if observed unawares, I am a 
shining, peaceful thing?  When do I slip out of everything physically 
unbeautiful about myself?   I know that when I'm elbow deep in pots and 
mulch and dirt and new plants, I am free.  When I'm picking basil and 
chives in my garden, chopping fresh veggies from the market, and a warm 
summer evening is coming in the windows, I feel glowing.  When I am 
walking in the woods through filtery sunlight, or making love to my 
husband, I am floating on my own personal warm current.

Julie