Bad Hair Day

I love taking drives out north between Fort Collins and the Wyoming border. It’s peaceful farm and ranch land with foothills to the west. And at the north end is some fabulous open space I like to hike in that offers some amazing vistas when I get up on top.
 
But the drive itself offers a great opportunity to see a variety of animals and birds, including raptors. Maybe not as majestic as Golden Eagles, Turkey Vultures are still amazing. I mean, these guys mean business. I’ve seen as many as a dozen flying together, circling high over what I assume is their next meal down below. And when they’re perched on a branch or a fence post, they have a look that says, “Just so
you know, I’m a bad ass.”

​
​Anyway, with my pandemic weariness and cabin fever growing, I ventured north this morning to see what I might see. And I came upon a Turkey Vulture. Not the usual intense guy. But instead, one that looked a tad…disheveled.

Well, truth be told, I stopped going to the hair salon a couple of months ago and have been cutting my own hair. And the result is mediocre at best. So Turkey Vulture and I? We are strange, new kindred spirits. Of the Bad Hair Day variety.
 
It is what it is.