What Do Turkey Vulture Eggs Look Like?

Avulture’s egg wears its turkey neck on the outside in speckled red dots, like a crime scene. You take the spattering as a sign of bloody-lust. Its speckles seem arbitrary and disorganized, just like love or the body accidentally run over by a car. The turkey vultures circle over the squirrel. The best part first: entrails where old food doubles nutrient value. You can take home part of the entrails, carry them like a worm your brethren robin might take, to the baby chicks, if they have in fact broken out of their speckled egg.

T he speckled eggs make a force field. You might not eat a blue robin’s egg because blue is a rarely edible color. But you might. You’ve met robins face to face. You could eat one, they sing so cute.

Turkey vultures have nothing to say. They don’t need to talk. They have each other. One two three vultures fly in like B-52s. Well, bombers until they tighten their circle. Then, they tilt into whirlpools spinning wind into spools. They can ride forever in a tornado of wing. Tilt ring right, there’s a dead squirrel over there. Tilt a wing left, a dead raccoon over there. Double wing tilters thank the cars for their driving, their wheels for flattening, their steerers for not really noticing the tufts of brown squirrel rolling in front of cars. We may know the deliciousness of squirrel. Of turkey vulture egg? Who would dare?