The Buzzards of Bunn

 

by Pa Rock

Fan of Wildlife

Back in early 2014 just before I retired and left the desolate browns of Arizona for the beautiful greens of the Missouri Ozarks, I wrote about an invasion of feral chihuahuas in the the small community of Maryvale, an incorporated town that sits in about the fifth ring of Phoenix, somewhere out near Avondale and Goodyear.  

Maryvale is a relatively modest low-and-middle-income community in the massive Phoenix urban sprawl, a place with a low potential for making news - especially of the national variety.  But Maryvale began making the news when local authorities could not control the the ever-expanding, raging street gangs of hungry chihuahuas.  The feisty little warriors ran in packs (called "chatters") and were not only terrorizing locals, but were also posing a danger to young school children as well.

The little dog situation in Maryvale has apparently resolved itself during the intervening seven years, though I don't know how - nor do I want to know how, and today the news has shifted to buzzards, and they aren't in Maryvale.

The small town of Bunn in northeastern North Carolina has been dealing with an invasion of what the press refers to as "buzzards" for a year now.  The enormous black birds have literally taken over the town and perch - and poop and vomit - everywhere.    No one seems to know what brought the carrion-eaters into town, or, more importantly, how to make them leave.

(Feathered Facts:  In North America buzzards are considered to be vultures, but in the rest of the world they are thought of as hawks.  A group of flying vultures is known as a "kettle," and vultures resting in mass are commonly referred to as "a committee," and sometimes "a venue" or "a volt.")

One resident of Bunn was quoted in several press sources this past week as saying that she counted 58 of the big birds - also commonly referred to as "turkey vultures" - on the rooftops of her home and garage as well as on the fence around her property.  She said the birds peck at the bricks in her chimney and pull them loose.  The lady also said that the buzzards drive her dogs "insane."

There have been reports of other property damage caused by the buzzards - things like vents being pulled from rooftops and rain gutters being torn away from buildings.   In addition to homes and businesses, he buzzards also like to roost on the town's cell tower and public buildings - including the schools.

Students at the local high school built a propane cannon and fired it from the roof of the school last December in an effort to scare the birds away, and it worked temporarily, but they returned.  The cannon was apparently so loud that it was as upsetting to some of the residents as the birds.   The students at the school also hung buzzard effigies on the school building, but those did not discourage the birds from relaxing on the building's rooftop.

No one knows what brought the buzzards to Bunn, and right now no one knows how to make them go away.  They are protected by the federal Migratory Bird Act of 1918, so the locals can't just go on a frenzied shooting spree.    Some would also argue that since they feed on dead and rotting flesh, they pose little threat to livestock and domestic pets - so live and let live, and when they get hungry enough they will move on.

But for now the birds are staying.  Perhaps the buzzards know something that the locals don't.  Maybe they are gathering for a purpose.  Maybe there is a carrion calamity that is about to loose itself on the town of Bunn, and maybe Stephen King will tell us all about it!