Book Review: Vulture: The Private Life of an Unloved Bird by Katie Fallon

Reviewed by Natalie Sypolt

Vulture: The Private Life of an Unloved Bird
Nonfiction by Katie Fallon
University Press of New England, March 2017
$19.57, 247 pp.
ISBN-13: 978-1611689716

Imagine driving to work one morning, and up ahead you see a black mass of bird, hunched over some recently departed animal—something small and cute like a rabbit or squirrel. As you grow closer, the vulture looks at you, cocks its head slightly before opening its big wings and hopping away.  Do you recoil? Feel sorry for the bunny and disgusted by the opportunistic beast feeding on its body? Chances are, many of us have had this very reaction; however, in her book Vulture: The Private Life of an Unloved Bird, Katie Fallon shows us why we should be celebrating and protecting this peaceful bird instead of reviling it.

“A turkey vulture is a perfect creature,” the introduction begins. “It is neither prey nor predator. It exists outside of the typical food chain, beyond the kill-or-be-killed law of nature, although without death, it would starve . . . The vulture transforms these transformations—these deaths—into life. It wastes nothing. It does not kill. It is not a murder . . .”

Fallon and her husband Jesse, a veterinarian in West Virginia, are both board members of the Avian Conservation Center of Appalachia, an organization whose mission (according to their website) is “to conserve the region’s wild birds through research, education, and rehabilitation.” Turkey vultures and black vultures often come into the Center, suffering from injuries ranging from a vehicle collision or, too often, gunshot wounds. “Even though they are peaceable, harmless, and helpful, turkey vultures are still persecuted by humans,” Fallon writes. “Even turkey vultures admitted for vehicle-related injuries sometimes have old, healed-over wounds concealing shotgun pellets under the skin.”

The goal of the ACCA is to rehabilitate the injured birds and release them back into the wild; however, that is not always possible due to the severity of the injury. This was the case with Lew, a non-releasable turkey vulture who had the temperament of a spokesbird, an ambassador for vultures everywhere. Though Lew was calm and did not self-mutilate as many vultures do in captivity, gaining the trust of this bird was no small feat. “Whenever I entered the enclosure I made sure to bring a few dead mice in my pockets, so not only would he know I wasn’t a threat, but he’d associate me with food as well,” Fallon writes. It is through her slow, close work with Lew that Fallon begins to truly understand the intense intelligence and grace of this misunderstood bird.

While Fallon herself certainly has plenty of firsthand experience with vultures, she never calls herself an expert and does an admirable job consulting others, such as one of the “world’s preeminent experts on raptor migration,” Keith Bildstein, who is also Hawk Mountain’s director of conservation science. Fallon is an unrepentant vulture advocate, but does not have a blind love. Her admiration is supported by science—science that shows that vultures are a vital part of our ecosystem and, without them, changes would be noticeable. “An absence of large scavenging raptors can be linked to an increase in human and animal diseases as well as the contamination of whatever and soil,” Fallon tells us. Without the clean-up crew, caucuses rot, or attract other scavengers—like wild dogs—that might increase the risk of rabies.

Through thorough research, interviews, and firsthand experience, Fallon establishes unquestionable credibility; however, it is her own narrative writing and descriptive skills that make Vulture a book that is not only educational and inspiring, but readable and entertaining. Towards the end of the book, Fallon gives us a glimpse into her own perception, and shows us how these birds really can be a symbol for the connectivity of all humanity:

I gazed across the sun-drenched Sonoran streaming past the car window and thought about turkey vultures—not just C. a aura birds, but all of them, out there, everywhere. I thought about folks perched on hawk-watch towers in Pennsylvania, Cape May, California, Mexico, and Costa Rica, and all the folks driving North America’s interstate highways, and folks on the beaches in Ecuador, or walking a vineyard in Chile, or fishing the Elk River in West Virginia, or working in an office in downtown Miami, or tending cattle in Venezuela, or hiking Canada’s boreal forest. Turkey vultures are a common denominator—they unite us, they remind us that our lives are not endless but perhaps our chemical bodies are, and that once we’re here, we’re a part of it all, this great big world and its natural cycles of birth and death, of rebirth and resurrection.

Reading Vulture might not make you want to feed a turkey vulture dead mice from your pocket; but let’s imagine that scene that we started with again. The vulture is picking at a dead rabbit, but now, instead of being disgusted, you are thankful. You’re glad that this “perfect” creature is there to help nature along, to put the rabbit’s body to use again, and make life from death. “I’m not sure why many of us have a negative impression of turkey vultures,” Fallon says. “Above all, I think we dislike turkey vultures because they remind us of our own mortality, and that life will continue after we die—and that, as with all animals, something will be waiting to consume our bodies.” Perhaps, after experiencing Katie Fallon’s story, you will no longer be so unwilling to forgive and value this unloved bird.

Natalie Sypolt lives and writes in West Virginia. She received an MFA in fiction from West Virginia University in 2005 and is currently an Assistant Professor at Pierpont Community and Technical College. She also teaches community creative writing classes and workshops. Her work has appeared in Glimmer Train, Switchback, r.kv.r.y, Ardor Literary Magazine, Superstition Review, Paste, Willow Springs Review, and The Kenyon Review Online, among others. Natalie is the winner of the Glimmer Train New Writers Contest, and the Betty Gabehart Prize. She is also an active book reviewer whose work appeared in Fjords Review, Shenandoah, Harper Palate, and Mid-American Review. Additionally, Natalie serves as a literary editor for the Anthology of Appalachian Writers, is the High School Workshop Coordinator for the West Virginia Writer’s Workshop at WVU, and is co-host of SummerBooks: A literary podcast.