The Aviary

Chapter 3

The bird in question was a fanged vulture. These birds look similar to their ancestor, the bearded vulture, but with teeth, and are about as tall as a person. If you don't know what a bearded vulture is, they are white or orange-red birds (the red color actually comes from dying their feathers in minerals), and they eat, for the most part, just bone marrow. However, the fanged vultures are a bit too impatient for breaking open bones and eating the marrow. They are avid hunters.

Luckily, they are trainable as well.

The aviary owned one breeding pair of the birds. It was not the season for them to breed, so the pair had been separated. (They are not social.)

The female, Wanda, would be the guard for that night.

In order for me to set her as a guard, I would need to lure her out of her enclosure. A large slab of beef in my hand, I walked up to the side of her aviary. Her pen was very large, almost a quarter acre in area, and was designed to look like a rocky desert. Red dirt covered the ground, and tubs of rusty-colored water were laid out underneath an orange stone overhang, A few dried trees had been added to act as perches.

Seeing me (or seeing the meat, at least), Wanda spread her wings and glided to the fence. She sidled up to me, in that sideways, head bobbing way that birds tend to do, her slitted eyes trained on her lure. This was an action that seemed cute in budgies and cockatiels, but was actually quite terrifying when the bird was taller than you, and a predator.

"Hello, Wanda," I said, slowly sliding open the door to the pen.

She cocked her head at me, her eyes dilating. I held the slab over my head and waved it. Just as she was about to lunge, I threw the lure far into the distance. The bird spread her wings and jumped into the air.

Wanda was now on guard.

And finally, I was done for the day. The sky was starting to dim. Harrison had already gone to sleep on his perch in the house. It was time for me to get some rest.

"Those birds are massive," I commented, staring at the pair of fanged vultures. Renald had told me it was breeding season, and once the chicks were old enough, he would separate the pair and send the chicks to another aviary, to continue the conservation of the species.

"No shit Sherlock," said a grey bird that was perched on Renald's shoulder.

I jumped in surprise. I know parrots can imitate, but that is really impressive.

"Be nice, Harrison," Renald scolded him.

"Why should I have to?" the bird grumbled, flaring his crest upward.

"He can talk?" I gasped.

"Oh wow. So surprising." If birds could roll their eyes, I think he would have.