They are, in real life, exactly like they are in cartoons- all hunched over and threatening. One landed behind the shed and I went to go take its picture, but I was unprepared for how big it is up close, and I maybe yelped a little bit. (I couldn’t help it. I think I’m pretty tough, but I turned the corner and it was this close. I probably could have touched it if I had a big stick and no common sense.)
And, alas, it flew away, not very far, but far enough that my photos are a bit blurry- I can’t stay still enough to get a crisp focus, and I couldn’t get closer on account of all the prickler bushes we haven’t cleared yet.
So I thought, I’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got all day. I’ll sit here until he forgets about me and flies back down. And then this big ol’ shadow passes over me, and I look up, and now there’s three more freaking huge turkey vultures flying overhead. They all come to these crashing stops- their enormous wingspan breaking branches off, and as those branches rained down on me, dear reader, I got the hell out of there, just in case they were thinking they could take me.
Who’s afraid of the big bad turkey vulture? I am.
They came back later, but I couldn’t get anywhere near as close. My husband offered to tackle one and hold it down while I took its picture, but I declined, just in case he wasn’t kidding. You never know with that one.