This Makes Up the Sky: Birds. Martina Madani

The Nature of a Place

By Martina Madani

Turkey vultures soar and circle high above the house in late summer. A time when the Sacramento heat presses in and the air smells of wildfire. The dark floating figures arrive at twilight against a sherbet sky. They roost every night in the 100-year-old, 70-foot-tall London plane tree out front. They stay here through fall and winter and leave in the spring. They have an intimidating presence.

We live in a quiet suburban neighborhood in a city surrounded on two sides by rivers where the birds scavenge for carrion during the day. By early evening they come home to roost. They are substantial birds with a wingspan of around six feet. They land one by one in the uppermost heights of the tree, weaker branches snap under their weight. It’s a macabre sight twenty or more vultures in one tree, vampires wrapped in black capes settled under the canopy for the night. The sight grows more frightful once the tree drops its leaves and the vultures perch alone on the bare, cold branches in winter.

They have a habit too of regurgitating the blood and bones of the carcasses they devour at the river and defecating en masse. Deposits land on the sidewalk and cars where constant clean-up is required. The vultures are a raw reminder that our tidy lives are secondary to nature’s ruthlessness. We have no control over migratory patterns or the bird’s behavior. Despite the mess and menacing look, they are a wonder to behold. Their appearance brings us into the present moment, stops us as we watch them drift above the treetops in the honeyed light at the end of each day. They make no sound, unlike the steady calls of the crows and jays here, only hover aloft, then quietly land. 

I considered this dilemma more earnestly after reading Helen Macdonald’s Vesper Flights. Macdonald’s primary reflection throughout the collection of essays is humanity’s interaction with the natural world and in many cases birds of prey. There are moments of awe, conflict, peculiarity, and in each nature shows us something of who we are. 

Discussions with our neighbors to discourage the vultures from roosting here came to mind. Society’s capitalist laws say I own the tree, but what do birds know of law? The tree in our front yard is not owned by me, but rather is part of a complex biological system. I came to see that to evict the birds would be a loss of biodiversity, a tear in the web of interconnectedness between species who call this area home. For a century construction, pest treatments, and yard maintenance have altered, if not harmed, the natural systems at work in this neighborhood. I believed I was an environmentalist, a conservationist, but right in front of me was an opportunity to live my values, and I was missing it. 

One of Macdonald’s recurring themes is the ability of birds to erase national borders and make human history seem irrelevant. The migration of birds is unconcerned with law and politics. This is not a dissimilar issue to the increasing restrictions on immigration in the U.S., the determined efforts to stop the free movement of people and their dreams. A bird’s indifference to these rules and regulations is an unsung rebellion. 

When my neighborhood was first formed, when the houses were newly built, trees freshly planted that would grow for 100 years, property deeds included racially restrictive covenants, excluding people of color from ownership or occupancy. Our deed carries this exclusion. It’s difficult to accept that I couldn’t have owned my home back then or may not have been welcomed by neighbors, but understanding the past helps us do better in the future. It helps me see the vultures as welcome neighbors, as indigenous to the landscape.

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You can read the entire This Makes up the Sky series by visiting: https://womenwhosubmitlit.org/category/the-sky/