Awkward Beauty

I have always been a champion of justice, wanting the underdog to win, to see Goliath slain, the bully humbled, even humiliated.  I relish the balance inherent in the scales of Libra, my sun sign.  However, as most of us do from time to time, I  turn a blind eye towards my own aberrant imbalances.

A volcano of vultures was swirling lazily overhead. (Yes, I know, the correct term is "kettle", but I like to stir the pot.)  Revulsion and boredom mixed together inside my head to cause me to look away, look for something interesting, some scarlet macaw, Cherrie's tanager, or spider monkey.  Then within the volcano glided a frigate.  I paused to compare its elegant dance to the awkward, stumbling jig of the vultures.  Somewhere inside, their jig became my own ungainly attempts at playing tennis, or surfing, or social grace.  I found forgiveness for them.  I found myself realizing that their flight was what had originally drawn my eyes upward to the sky, that their mundane nature actually invites other birds into their realm.  They are gentle giants of the air.  Soon swallows swarmed through the volcano, scooping unseen insects from the air in salacious glee.  And the scarlet macaws squawked past in pairs.

The vultures I saw were probably the ubiquitous black vulture of Costa Rica whose flight is not quite as side-to-side slipping as the turkey vulture.  Furthermore, the black vulture seems to be monogamously mated for life, both males and females taking turns caring for the hatchlings by sharing their regurgitations.  Meals are more often fresh kills than carrion, more often fruit and vegetables than weak and sickly animals ready to be taken.  They are the house cleaners of the jungles and roads of the Osa.