I had taken Bailey out for her late-evening sniffing of the t**ds when an enormous black bird landed in the motel parking lot. I quickly grabbed her up thinking she might be on the dinner menu. I heard a fellow laughing from across the way.
"You got no worries there, Pal."
"What is that thing?" I asked walking over to him. "I've never seen a bird that big." I was holding Bailey close, still fearing a snatch-and-swallow.
Why, that's a California Tread Vulture," he replied.
"OK", I said—laughing. "I'll bite! What's a California Tread Vulture?"
"Bud, you think I'm bullin' you, don't you?" He pushed his cap back a looked very seriously at me. "Well, I'm not! The state of California bred them special to clean up after them eighteen-wheelers out on the Interstates. You know how they throw that piece of tread every now and again?"
I nodded.
"You get that in Oklahoma, don't you?" He pointed to my van plate.
I nodded again. "Sure, they're all over."
"These here vultures will swoop down on them treads and carry 'em off and eat 'em. They'd sooner starve to death that eat that pup of yours, dead or alive."
I was astounded. "You've got to be kidding me! They can eat that tire tread?"
"Absolutely!" he nodded. "You just take a look at how clean our Interstates are. You watch and you'll see one of them carrying off a chunk of that tread as sure as I'm standing here."
We walked out to my van.
"Now, they don't eat the steel. But that's a big plus. The State flies around in a helicopter with a big magnet and picks it up. Sells it for scrap." He looked sorrowfully at his feet and the parking lot. "Times is tough out here."
Suddenly the bird flew over us. He had a wingspread of at least six feet, maybe eight.
Parking Lot Man spoke again. "Of course, seeing them in this motel lot ain't good."
"Oh?" I put Bailey down to continue checking her pee-mail. "Why is that?"
"Well, you know everything has a flip side. Red has its black and odd has its even."
"Oh, I know that!"
"Well, sometimes these birds run across slim pickens out on the Interstate so they fly into town searching for food. They's more birds than the biologists ever counted on. And they's hungry."
"I see."
"I don't think you do, Chum. See, these birds get so hungry they'll tear a Michelin right off a Lexus sitting in the parking lot."
"You're kidding me."
"You say that a lot, Stud, and, no, I'm not. Traveler like you gets up in the morning and finds his tires in shreds. Last week a flock of them picked a feller's rig clean while he slept in the cubby."
"Good God! I'm going to be in California for a week."
"Well you better get you some of that vulture repellent."
"Vulture repellent? You got to be..... Vulture repellent, you say?"
"Just like mosquito repellent. Spray it on the tires and forget it. One good spraying lasts about a month."
I felt trapped. I begin to imagine all the horribles that accrue to having your tires shredded. Especially when the wife eventually found out that I could have prevented the whole misery with a can of bird-off.
"Where do I find this stuff?"
"Well, it ain't cheap! Guys that make it found out people would pay upwards of a hundred bucks a can for it."
"A hundred!" I was about to piss my pants. "But I guess it's better than a new set of tires." I looked at my tires. "And being stranded in some Podunk town in California."
Parking lot man moved closer to me.
"Buddy, I got about a half a can I'd be willing to part with for fifty."
"You serious! You'd do that for me?"
"Ah, you seem like a good bloke."
So I bought it and my conscience has bothered me ever since. That can was way more than half full.
Trust me Sam, I've been through that area... you got your moneys worth... LOL.
Nice one.
MM