Poor old buzzards have the hardest, nastiest job in the
world (keeping it cleaned up of carcasses). I once was out
walking on our old country road. Came across a bunch of
buzzards perched here and there woefully gazing at the
carcass of one of their own. They were actually seeming to
DREAD having to eat it. I took a tree limb and scooted the
carcass into a ditch and covered it up. They seemed to be
grateful. - Many years ago, Fang & I were out for a walk.
He shot a buzzard & killed it. I GAVE HIM A LECTURE ABOUT
how that buzzard had an important JOB to do and how he’d
done a dastardly deed in killing it (he was NOT going to
use the buzzard for food). - I doubt that Fang has ever
killed another buzzard.
Fang?