While backpacking decades ago in our Santa Barbara backcountry, I suddenly beheld four of the then-nearly-extinct California condors soaring right above — the silvery undersides of their enormous wings quite visible with the feathered black body hanging between.

In 1982, there were only 22 of these carrion-eaters flying in the wild. As readers know, highly successful interventions have led nearly 350 condors aloft today, with hundreds in captivity.

When guru Franko and I saw the four condors flying in line, it formed a stupendous and even surreal picture, and luckily they were close when they floated above our upturned heads.

We figured these were crucially important fowl, especially then in the later 1980s.

In mid-August of this year, my partner and I ambled on the bluff-top trail above the roaring ocean at Cambria’s enticing Fiscalini Ranch Preserve.

This 430-acre area features the easy path you see in the second photograph, as well as one of the last remaining Monterey pine forests in California.

Nine giant black fowl soared around and above us as we admired the seascape and dark  rocks etched against blue ocean far below.

My partner and I were immediately certain these were the fabled California condors with their 9-foot wingspan. I had slipped back 40 years to those four similar huge, black condors — and thoughtlessly blurted, “I’ve seen condors in the wild before, but never nine of them, and never landing on a beach.”

Giddy with delight, a nearby birder stared at them with her binoculars and loudly confirmed our false identification. A miracle brought to us by Poseidon and the sea deities: nine condors feeding beneath Cambria Monterey pine cliffs!

We completed the two-mile round-trip, leisurely Fiscalini trail — partially on boardwalk, and it reminded us of walking along Goleta’s Ellwood Bluffs.

But my partner began to wonder if  these were cormorants (many of these diving birds were around) or the much-loathed turkey vultures (cathartes aura) whose wing-spans can reach 5½ feet.

Even a 5-foot wingspan appears quite large if the bird soars close by, and we certainly could detect some whitish or silvery color under the wings.

Occasionally called “turkey buzzards,” these ungainly fowl serve a critical role in nature’s ecosystems by consuming vast amounts of rotting dead meat (carrion) — they’re the garbage collectors who perform a much-maligned task.

We observed the largest vulture down on the beach tearing away at the sea-soaked remnants of what appeared to be a long-dead sea lion (common in this area).

It was disposing of some rancid parts and carrying out its role in the cycle of life/death. (There have been many reports of dead seals and sea lions all along the coastline because of demoic acid.)

But “vulture” and “vultures” do have a bad name in western cultures and throughout literature. In his “Merry Wives of Windsor,” William Shakespeare has a character insult another by saying, “Let vultures gripe thy guts.”

The Bard utilizing the plural “vultures” means that several of these “horrible” birds will tear at your guts, and “gripe” is a sort of clever pun since it’s also the name of the mythological griffin (gryphon).

A griffin had a fierce lion’s body with long talons on the forepaws, wings, and the head of an eagle. By the European Middle Ages, it had become an allegorical symbol representing divisions between good and evil.

In everyday English, sometimes people will describe another person as a “vulture” and, again, it’s a negative: Vulture signifies strong disapproval, and usually because you imagine they are trying to get something or gain something from someone else’s problems.

A “gold-digger” can also be termed a wretched “vulture.” However, it isn’t negative in all cultures by any means, and English limits us to the Euro-centric West.

In Hebrew, the word vulture can mean pity or compassion. In Cherokee, turkey vultures are termed “peace eagles” since they don’t have to kill any other animal in order to live and thrive.

And it goes on and on, culturally and linguistically, but it’s clear that vultures’ unsavory (to human) diet has grossed some out (Shakespeare), while others in Indigenous cultures often detect a positive aspect to their role.

The English term turkey arose since the bald head and wattled neck somewhat resemble turkeys. However, most experts believe this bird evolved independently of turkeys and is likely related to cormorants or storks.

Turkey vultures are unusual for a bird in having an exceptional sense of smell, which helps lead them to dead prey hidden beneath tree cover.

We studied the turkey vultures for at least 40 minutes since we passed where they roosted twice.

At first, we had noticed the one flying and the three nestled on the cliffside (lead photograph), but then a terrible stench arose, and when I peered over the cliff, there were five on the stony shingle with two of them “griping” (tearing) away on the scattered guts of a very large mammal (we assume a sea lion).

We became quite impressed by the collective and coordinated intelligence of these stunning birds, since two or three always kept vigilant watch for predators who might attack those feasting below.

Those watchers on the green hillside (three vultures) are the sentinels, and then above them two or three circle constantly watching out for their hillside mates (see the lead photograph).

They have few predators, but among them are great-horned owls and bald eagles, as well as raccoons and foxes. There also seemed to be a logical rotational system to guarantee all nine birds a safe turn at the rotting carcasses on the narrow beach below.

The avian “sentries” seemed to like staring back at the weird bipeds who couldn’t get off the ground, and I even spied what felt like pity or compassion.

The one in the photograph captioned, “Looking at you,” followed us with that ominous eyeball and impudent attitude and without apparent fear.

The final determination that these really were the more common turkey vulture comes with the brownish color of some feathers you can see through the telephoto in the “looking at you” picture here. California condors are all black.

Condors, turkey vultures, black vultures are all crucial garbage collectors who scarf up the carrion. Perhaps turkey buzzards, er, vultures, also have this ugly reputation in western cultures because they have a unique (and disgusting to humans) defense mechanism: If under attack, they can at will regurgitate half-digested food so that the putrid stench forms a repellant of sorts.

4.1.1.

Driving to the Fiscalini Ranch Preserve in Cambria: Follow Highway 101 north to the Morro Bay exit. Take Highway 1 through Morro Bay and Cayucos to Cambri. From downtown Cambria, follow the signs to Moonstone Beach. At the Moonstone Beach turnoff, go straight instead on Windsor Drive to the very end (a dead-end). Begin hiking in the Fiscalini Ranch Preserve (parking on the street is also OK). Dogs must be on a leash, and bike usage is restricted to specific trails. Bring a camera, binoculars and water.

For more on the Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, click here.

William Shakespeare quote from “Merry Wives of Windsor,” 1:3:81.