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Come back to this page each day to read another entry from Frederick R. Gehlbach's almanac of suburban natural and unnatural history, "Messages from the Wild," which chronicles the world of a forested ravine in central Texas.
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Black vultures have begun courtship flying and aerial inspection of potential nest sites. A pair criss-crosses the ravine, flaps in tandem, separates, sails, and begins again. Eggs are laid in early February, about a week earlier in suburbia than in rural areas, always on the ground under such shelter as leaning tree trunks, piles of limbs and dead foliage, rocky overhangs, elevated wooden decks, or backyard sheds. Black vultures are readily accustomed to human activity and nest regularly in the ravine, sometimes roosting on rooftops and patio railings and drinking from birdbaths. Despite their aerial beauty, intelligence, comical nature, and role as recyclers in the play of life, my human neighbors think them ugly and a nuisance, and treat them accordingly, much to my dismay. |
Frederick R. Gehlbach is Professor Emeritus of Biology and Environmental Studies at Baylor University. His ecological studies have taken him from New Zealand to Slovakia and, in the Americas, from Alaska and Newfoundland to Guatemala, Belize and Honduras. His research interests include the life-history strategies of small owls, small burrowing snakes and urban wildlife ecology.
From MESSAGES FROM THE WILD: AN ALMANAC OF SUBURBAN NATURAL AND UNNATURAL HISTORY by Frederick R. Gehlbach, Copyright © 2002. Courtesy of the University of Texas Press.
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