II. I Was Never Mistaken for Something More Noble
by Jennifer Weatherly
[this is the second in the six part series–
read Nature Always Finds a Way Through from the beginning, here]
Tell me, I asked the vulture, why you scavenge.
What do you mean? He scratched at the bark of the tree branch where he was perched.
I mean, I said, you have talons and the scariest beak I’ve ever seen. Scary eyes, too. You could hunt if you wanted to.
Isn’t scavenging hunting? he asked.
Not really, I replied. Although now that I thought about it, it was, in a way. Just not in the way that I’d meant.
So I said: It’s similar but it’s not the same. You don’t do the whole job yourself. You just pick up what’s already been weakened. So it’s a lot easier.
Is it? he asked. Have you ever tried it?
I thought of everyone who’d ever kept me waiting on their sofa when they promised they’d be ready an hour before. I thought of my eating habits. I grimaced. No, I lied.
The vulture knew I was lying; I could tell, because he stopped scratching at the tree bark and dropped to the ground. You couldn’t really call it flying. You could call it swooping if you wanted to, though.
Sometimes, he said, it’s nice when things are easier. Especially when you haven’t eaten in days.
I suppose that’s true, I said. I crossed my arms and grabbed at my elbows.
Does that mean you haven’t eaten in days? He pointed at my middle with his beak.
It didn’t, although I hadn’t, at least not a proper meal. What it meant was, I didn’t want him to pick at me anymore. But he didn’t seem to know how to do anything else. And I was getting pretty good at not telling him the truth.
So I said, No. It’s just something humans do.
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