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The wind was blowing below - I could hear it rush like white water and see where it was riffling the maple tops in the mountain valley.... I was sitting, drinking from my canteen, when I saw a vulture appear way below in the draw between the mountains. He circled slowly and methodically up, holding his wings in a stiff, lacquered bow, never flapping, always soaring.... He was joined by four, then five, finally six others, circling so close I could count feathers....At moments I felt small and vulnerable, like prey.... But by the time I finally rose to go back to my tent, I felt almost protected, watched over. It had been thrilling - my heart was beating hard.
Bill McKibben, The Age of Missing Information |