It was an early morning walk, weeks ago, just sweet Gemma and I. We were greeted by 2 dozen or so vultures, black bodies silhouetted against the dawn sky, perched in the bare branches of oak and sweet gum trees. I can’t say why that morning was different as I’ve seen vultures nearly daily for years, soaring over our neighborhood, roosting on rooftops and treetops, but that morning I paused long enough to give them a moment of my thoughts.

If these birds are the same I’ve seen for years, their numbers seem to be gradually increasing. They must be mating and successfully raising fledglings, but I never see any vulture I’d consider a juvenile. The sizes don’t differ much, neither does the plumage.

I’ve seen red shouldered hawks build nests, patrol for food and raise young right in my backyard. Our bird boxes are successful; wrens seem to always want to nest in my garage. Robins have claimed our front yard Japanese maple three years in a row.

But where do vultures nest?

Does anyone else give vultures much thought? My curiosity steered me to social media where I asked neighbors for their first impression of vultures. Most of the responses were negative in some way: death, ugly, roadkill, filthy. Other comments reflected an understanding of the ecological value of vultures, so words or phrases like: amazing, cleaning service, natural processes were shared. It’s true that once we understand the value of an organism in an ecosystem or to humans directly, it’s better tolerated. For me, somewhere in my latent childhood memories is a Disney film that left me feeling icky about vultures, so there are societal impressions people struggle to overcome.  And let’s face it, there are more beautiful creatures in the world to admire!

But back to my “woke” vulture moment. Where do they nest? How often do they breed? Is this the same flock that has always been here? For all the hours I’ve watched songbirds and waterfowl, and stared down the barrel of binocs to watch osprey build a nest and hawks hunt, I haven’t given much time to our valuable vultures.

And then today, again out with Gemma, I stopped to watch two vultures snuggle. There is no other way to describe it. They were perched on a light post, preening themselves, then each other, beak to neck, neck to neck. Then one fanned out its wings and the other kind of inched away, nipping at its friend as if to say, “You’re on my side of the bed.” But then the wings closed in and they got close, rubbing side body to side body and then relaxed in the nook of each other’s flank. During that one 25 minute walk I noticed 4 different pairs of vultures, cuddled up on a perch. It’s like the large committee broke up, to pair off and dare I suggest, mate? While the trees are still bare, I scanned for any sign of nests, but didn’t see any.

My interest is piqued, my senses are dialed in, my vulture IQ is on the rise! I’m prepared to sit and watch and learn more, read more. And I’d love to hear what you know. Please share in the comments. Happy Spring!  

Vultures in Holly Springs

Black vultures are typically more common in urban and suburban settings than turkey vultures, but I find both to be fairly common in my neighborhood. Northern residents may head short distances south during the winter, so our winter committees may actually be migrants, or are our permanent southern residents.

Vultures mate for life and stay together year round. Their courting ritual involves an extensive flight display. While vultures are common in neighborhoods when roosting or soaring as a kettle, they prefer to nest in isolation, either scraping nests into the side of a cave, on the ground, or using discarded hollows and nests made by other animals. They will reuse nests year over year. Mating pairs share in the incubation and chick rearing duties.

The gatherings I see on house tops and trees in the evenings and early mornings are foraging groups, where independent young vultures reconnect with their parents daily. Black vultures will physically keep non-family members from joining foraging committees. Black vultures are more agile and aggressive than turkey vultures.

Learn more: All About Birds by the Cornell Lab.