Native to the Americas, the turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) travels widely in search of sustenance. While usually foraging alone, it relies on other individuals of its species for companionship and mutual protection. Sometimes misunderstood, sometimes feared, sometimes shunned, it nevertheless performs an important role in the ecosystem.
This scavenger bird is a marvel of efficiency. Rather than expend energy flapping its wings, it instead locates uplifting columns of air, and spirals within them in order to glide to greater heights. This behavior has been mistaken for opportunism, interpreted as if it is circling doomed terrestrial animals destined to be its next meal. In truth, the vulture takes advantage of these thermals to gain the altitude needed glide longer distances, flying not out of necessity, but for the joy of it.
It also avoids the exertion necessary to capture live prey, preferring instead to feast upon that which is already dead. In this behavior, it resembles many humans.
It is not what most of us would consider to be a pretty bird. While its habits are often off-putting, or even disgusting, to members of more fastidious species, the turkey vulture helps to keep the environment from being clogged with detritus. Hence its Latin binomial, which translates to English as "golden purifier."
I rarely know where the winds will take me next, or what I might find there. The journey is the destination.
Most of their current clothing rules just make sense, to be honest. It's now okay for men to have long hair. Smoking on Tom Sawyer island is no longer a problem. It has become Star Wars.
As someone that lives in Western New York, living on Minimum Wage, just going to Florida or California would be expensive, let alone going to Disney Land or World.
Robert Waltz - As always in the human condition, there's no accounting for taste. Maybe it was a case of 'throwing something against the wall and seeing what might stick.'
Turkey DrumStik - When my folks were helping me move out of my dorm room after freshman year at college in 1973, my mom found my potted marijuana plant and asked me what it was.
"Cannabis sativa," I replied. She'd heard of marijuana.
"Ooh, nice," she said. "Will it have flowers?"
"I hope so!"
She carried it from the dorm, and placed it proudly in the front window at home. I removed it to my third-floor bedroom window telling her it would have more sunlight.
I wonder what some groups would make of Mental Floss calling it marijuana and not cannabis. (My father-in-law has been grabbing some magazines written by and for cannabis entrepreneurs and evangelists. The magazine has talked about the shift in nomenclature as a step to mitigate racist connotations linked to the substance in question.)
I have few friends, that's no surprise. To know me is to Love (Hate) me. I don't think I'd do well in isolation though. I'd be better off marooned on an island, like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Who am I fooling? That wouldn't work for me either. Being in a large crowd for an extended period would be punishment for me. Being alone anywhere would also be punishment.
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