I wasn't the only one intent on breakfast Sunday morning. When I glanced out the window, a two-foot-long black bird with a wing-span of six feet was just a few flaps away.
Which explained the smell in the garden. A smell for which I hadn't found the source. But a smell grown strong enough to lure a black vulture from the sky.
I can do almost anything but I still subscribe to the theory that some jobs are by definition Blue Jobs. Removing dead things is a Blue Job.
Might have been a raccoon; hard to tell after the Texas heat, encrusting larvae and vulture pickings.
We held our breath when Denny picked it up by the tail. It didn't fall apart in squishy pieces. A small blessing.
The other blessing came at the tail-end of the day.
The car wouldn't start when I came out of the store at 6:00pm. Didn't even make an rrrr-rrrrr sound.
Denny had to drive out and jump it. Then he followed me home. Good thing. When I got off the freeway, the engine cut off and he had to jump it again. And again. Dead as soon as the cables came off.
It was a warp-speed intersection at the end of the weekend when well-lubricated drivers leave the Hill Country behind and hit the road home. I thought they might all be texting too.
But the lane to our left was blocked off for repair and Denny pushed the car in front of the barrier. A big convenience store stood nearby. He drove his truck into the parking lot, we bought BBQ and ate in the parking lot as the sky darkened and we waited for the tow truck.
In an hour the car was on the way to an overnight berth at the repair place and we were on our way home.
Losing power in traffic was scary. Repairs cost money.
But the vultures didn't have to come for us.
Copyright 2009-2013 Kathleen Scott, for Hill Country Mysteries. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.