HINCKLEY TWP. — The world takes notice every March 15 when the buzzards return to Hinckley, but no one seems to pay attention to
where the birds set up housekeeping once they arrive.

That would be right on top of Miki Simic’s house.

Every morning and evening, like clockwork, a batch of buzzards comes to roost on the roof of the Bellus Road home she shares with her husband and two young children. The gray house with its pretty flower gardens sits on a hill and catches the morning sun. The birds swoop in from a nearby woods at about 8 a.m. to bask in the warmth and dry their wings. By 10 a.m. or so, they fly off to do what buzzards do.

Around 5 p.m. they come back — apparently to discuss their workday over dinner, judging by the leavings on Simic’s shingles.

“You would not believe the things I’ve found on our roof,” she said.
“I’ve found the head of a chicken carcass on our roof. They bring their stuff here to eat.”

They sit in the surrounding trees, on the neighbor’s barn, and on the children’s swing set, too.

A group of buzzards is called a “wake,” a somewhat appropriate term given the service the birds provide in cleaning up dead wildlife. You’ve got your covey of quail in the meadow, your flock of seagulls on the beach, and your wake of buzzards dining on a luckless chicken that didn’t quite make it across the road.

Bob Hinkle is chief of outdoor education for the Cleveland Metroparks and the official spotter for Buzzard Day festivities each March at nearby Hinckley Reservation.

While buzzards are not strong fliers, he said, they are majestic gliders, riding currents of warm air called thermals.

At the tips of their wings, they have what are known as primary feathers, which buzzards can spread into different positions, much like we move our fingers. Those delicate adjustments allow the birds to take advantage of the slightest changes in the rising air currents.

When the primary feathers are damp with dew, they can stick and make for less efficient gliding, Hinkle said.

Social and opportunistic creatures that they are, when buzzards find a safe, sunny perch, they tend to keep meeting there. The birds’ black wings soak up sun like solar panels, gradually dry out, and then they’re ready to search for the day’s food. It’s a much different lifestyle than the ones led by robins, bluebirds and red-tailed hawks.

“I think in many ways, buzzards are like teenagers,” Hinkle said. “They roost where they want. They keep late hours — in the morning, that is. They sleep in. Other more respectable birds have arisen, and sung their morning songs, and gone out in search of food.”

Buzzards are without vocal cords, so they don’t sing, Hinkle said, and they rely more on their noses than their eyes when it comes to finding meals. As migratory birds, they are protected by federal law.

This roosting ritual has taken place year-round in the almost seven years the Simics have owned the house, although the number of birds declines significantly during the winter when most fly to warmer climes.
In the summer, their population seems to be on the increase.

“From the beginning, they have really multiplied,” Simic said. “They’re doing really well.”

In addition to other buzzard leftovers, the birds leave occasional droppings and all kinds of little white feathers. They have poked out window screens and their feet are wearing out the shingles. There are times when the family has been awakened by the sound of a large buzzard coming in for a landing above them.

“I don’t think people realize how heavy they are,” Simic said. “They land and they go ‘boo-boof.’ ”

By anyone’s definition, the Simics have been amazingly patient when it comes to their houseguests. They’ve pretty much decided this is their family’s home, they like it here, and this is the way it’s going to be, Simic said.

Yet, the toll on the roof and the screens costs money. And then there are all the little tokens the buzzards leave behind.

“Oh,” she said, pointing matter-of-factly at a dry, gray, fuzzy lump on her front sidewalk. “This is some of the stuff they cough up.”

There are times when Simic has looked out a window and been face-to-face with a buzzard, two inches away through the glass.

“They’re not afraid of us,” she said.

The birds don’t seem to faze the kids, either. Each morning, Simic and her children walk down the driveway to wait for the school bus, look back, and there are the buzzards, as always, sitting on the house.

“They think it’s kind of funny,” Simic said.

Contact John Gladden at gladden@ohio.net.