From the Bench

We are accustomed to observing and writing about buzzards around the Franklin County courthouse, but we were surprised by a recent call from our friend, Randy Moore, concerning the real, sho nuff thing.

It seems someone had called Randy to request a look-around the old cabin that the Franklin County Historical Society purchased, moved to Carnesville, and restored some years back. The cabin sits about fifty yards back of the society headquarters, near the edge of the woods.

When Randy obliged the lady and got the key to open the cabin, they were in for a sordid surprise. In the middle of a darkened room toward the back, a dead buzzard lay on the floor. There was ample evidence of the bird’s frustration in trying to escape his imprisonment. Items were scattered about, pictures were knocked askew, and the bird had done, well, what all birds do, frustrated or not. All over the place. It was a mess.

The bird, too, was a mess. Rigor had set in, and mortis was right on his heels. Randy did not say whether or not the lady had seen enough on the initial entry, or if she stayed to explore further.

Randy gave the bird a proper buzzard burial. He flung it into the side yard, realizing that the bird’s surviving buddies would handle the interment, which they later did.

After cleaning up the cabin as well as he could, Randy noticed that a large flock of the ugly vultures were congregating in the tall trees nearby, apparently for evening vespers, since the Carnesville Presbyterian Church sits just through the woods beyond the Historical Society.

How the buzzard got down the chimney raises a wide range of speculation. We think our theory about what happened is as reasonable as any other, and here it is:

If anyone has a better theory, send it in. Our "Buzzard Contest" board will judge the entries and pick a winner.

The prize? Are you kidding? Who would give a prize for such a silly-a—ed contest?