Now, it's pretty clear that I have some sort of bond with vultures; I just wasn't expecting to see them up close. A couple of them flew away, only to circle back.
One fellow, though, watched as I pulled out my phone that I might snap a few pictures. He turned, obviously concerned about presenting his good side. I inched forward until I was no more than five or six feet away. By this time, I'd named him Rostislav and determined that we were going to be the best of friends and have all manner of adventures.*
I'm not certain what type of vulture he is, though. I'm getting conflicting images and information from the internet, which is weird because that source of information is never muddied and certainly never wrong. Maybe it's just me. Ah, well.
Not that I'm going to let that interfere with our madcap escapades. It matters not to me whether he's a black vulture or a turkey vulture. He's Rostislav, and he's my partner in awesome... even if he doesn't know it yet.
(credit for pointing this out to me goes to Aldebaran at sheroes; I totally want this as a print and, quite possibly, as an icon)
*I'll keep you posted.