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Vulture culture
Kate Santich
of the Sentinel Staff
Posted January 31, 2001
"It’s disgusting. They’re pecking on the windows, and they’re just gross." -- Administrative Assistant in 10th floor of office building.
Swarms of filthy buzzards that have taken up residence atop two of Orlando’s downtown high-rises could face water torture or electroshock therapy.
Operators of the Orange County Courthouse and the nearby Bank of America Center are grossed out by the large black birds that roost on the window ledges, noshing on road kill and staring curiously at workers inside.
Aside from alarming people with their red, wrinkled faces, beady eyes and talons that could carry away a chubby Chihuahua, the dozens of turkey vultures are nibbling on window caulk, staining ledges and "bombing" cars with their dietary byproducts.
At the $200 million courthouse on Orange Avenue, no one lingers on the 21st-floor balcony, where court personnel used to take tour groups.
"I’d be afraid to sit down and close my eyes," says Matt Benefiel, the court administrator. "With 25 vultures hanging around, I wouldn’t want to look dead."
Across the street at the 28-story Bank of America, things are little better.
"We have to do something about it," says Jeff Patterson, director of leasing for the building. "It’s a mess. And people just don’t like it because these birds are so dang ugly. Maybe if they were falcons or eagles or something, it would be OK."
On Tuesday, property managers there met with a company called Critter Control. Among the suggestions: Install motion sensors that will turn on water sprayers when a bird lands. If that doesn’t work, the next step might be electric shock.
The courthouse is looking at that option, too.
"It’s like an electric cattle fence," says John Hall, who is in charge of the building for the county. He said it could cost $150,000 to hot-wire the building.
Turkey vultures are found across most of the country, including Florida, but flocks of migrating birds have taken up winter residence at the courthouse since it opened in January 1998. They spiral around the tall building, apparently attracted by thermal updrafts.
This season, everyone agrees, their numbers have soared. Now the buzzards scuffle for space on window ledges, pecking at each and banging against the glass. Benefiel says they also like to bring dead rodents and other carrion upstairs to let it age a few days before dining.
This year’s drought has brought the extra bonus of yummy fish die-offs, providing even more food than usual for the flock.
And then there’s the caulk-chewing, a mystery that is more than a little distressing to the humans on the inside.
"I wouldn’t lean against the window," Benefiel says.
Already, courthouse workers have had to re-caulk some of the windows. It seems the nibbling caused minor floods during last summer’s thunderstorms.
"It’s disgusting. They’re pecking on the windows, and they’re just gross," says Lanelle Smith, an administrative secretary on the 21st floor of the courthouse.
Benefiel has taken to closing his blinds a lot these days.
"No one wants to sit there and look at those god-awful faces," he says.
But Resee Collins, director of the Audubon Center for Birds of Prey, urges a little can’t-we-all-just-get-along restraint. After all, "nature’s flying garbage collectors," as the buzzards are dubbed, serve humanity. They clean up carcasses from our roadways. They keep rotting vermin from spreading disease.
"In some cultures, they’re considered sacred," Collins says.
In California, Iowa and Arizona, buzzard fanciers actually hold turkey-vulture festivals each year to celebrate the return of the eagle-sized birds to their skies.
Miami also seems to have made peace with the vultures, which have squatted at the Dade County courthouse for three decades. Two years ago, artists, poets and musicians gathered outside the tall building to honor the returning flock.
Tampa is less vulture-friendly. In an attempt to chase the vultures away from the new $81 million federal courthouse, officials installed a device in 1999 that screeched every 45 seconds -- simulating the cry of a dying buzzard.
It drove people crazy, but the birds proved unflappable.
Collins says Orlando can learn to live with this part of nature.
"They’re just taking advantage of the way man has altered the environment," Collins says. "They’re saying, ‘Hey, this works for me.’ It’s really a compliment to the architect."
>>>Knowing those mercenary fucks at Disney, they'll probably catch them and set up a "Carrion of the Caribbean" amusement ride.
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