Don’t Follow Vultures

When I was a child, I became interested in bird watching. I carried a camera and binoculars while exploring the brush and waterways near my home, hoping to identify a black vulture, a bird that was uncommon in the area.

One afternoon, I followed a wooded path toward a narrow road beside a creek. I had seen scavenger birds near roadkill before, so I was searching the roadside and the surrounding brush. I found nothing and continued toward a small park at the end of the road.

As I walked beneath a tunnel of leaves, I saw a large bird circling overhead. Its shape suggested a vulture, and I followed it when it began descending. After several minutes, it landed in a clearing at the far end of the park.

I approached slowly from below the hill, trying not to disturb it. I could hear several birds calling and hoped I had found the black vultures I had been seeking. At the edge of the clearing, I raised my binoculars.

The smell reached me first. It was sharp, metallic, and unlike anything I had encountered while looking at ordinary roadkill. Through the binoculars, I realized that the birds were gathered around a human body. I froze. The person was lying in the grass, and the vultures had begun feeding. The sight was so shocking that I could not move or look away.

I remained there in a state of panic as the light faded. Then I became terrified that whoever had left the body might still be nearby. I began backing into the trees without turning around because I was afraid someone would be standing behind me.

Suddenly, headlights appeared at the top of the hill. A vehicle came out near the parking area, its tires sliding as it turned, and then it drove away in the opposite direction. I could not tell whether the driver had seen me, but the arrival of the car convinced me that I had to leave immediately.

I ran through the brush toward home. Branches tore my arms, and I kept expecting to hear footsteps behind me. I avoided the road and crossed through yards until I reached the house. I was alone and too frightened to call anyone right away. I locked every door, cleaned myself up, and shut myself in my room until my mother returned.

The next morning, I told her what I had found. When we contacted the authorities, we learned that the body had already been discovered. I gave a statement and answered every question I could, but I never heard what happened afterward.

I tried to find a report about the case, but I could not locate one. I had trouble remembering the exact circumstances, and some parts of that period of my childhood remain unclear. The image of the clearing, the circling birds, and the sudden headlights have never left me.

I stopped bird watching after that. I still think about how different the encounter might have been if the driver had stopped, or if the person responsible had noticed me watching from the edge of the trees. I went into the brush looking for a rare bird and found a scene I was never meant to see.