"The Buzzard Box" LbNA #16780 (ARCHIVED)

On the branch of a tree in a fine roadside park, perched two old turkey buzzards, named Alfred and Clark. “Man, I’m starved,” Clark declared, in a tone quite provoked, “You’d have thought by this time, some old cow would have croaked!”

“Yeah.... you’re right,” Alfred said. “I’m about to go nuts! What I’d give to chow down on some nice, juicy guts! Hey, I’ve got it!” he cried. “Let’s get out of this tree and go hunt for a carcass! We’ll find one...you’ll see!”

“Great idea!” said Clark. “Let’s get started right now! We can find a dead horse or a fox or a cow! Heck! McDonald’s can’t offer us that good a deal! If we’re lucky, we’ll find us our own Happy Meal!”

Well, that park was in Logan, there on Highway 9. It was nice, but no place for a buzzard to dine! “Let’s fly south to the grain bins,” Clark said, with a shout, “’cause they say that’s where all the old buzzards hang out.”

So away to the top of the grain bins they flew, where they joined some more buzzards, in fact, quite a few. They were BPC members, all looking for grub. (By the way, BPC stands for “Bone Pickers Club.”)

Well, they sat there and gazed at the whole countryside, very desperately searching for something that died. They saw bottles, beer cans and a bicycle seat, but not one doggone thing an old buzzard could eat!

They hung out for an hour, but nothing dropped dead, so they figured they’d keep moving southward, instead. They flew 2.2 miles after leaving the bridge. Then, they came to a marker and rested a smidge.

They flew west at the City Lake’s marker of stone, but they found no dead carcass, not even a bone. So they stretched out their wings, gave their feathers a shake, then they followed the road to the small Logan Lake.

To the dam flew those buzzards, there on the west side, then some stairs leading down to a spillway they spied. There were two cement pillars right there at the top and that’s where those two buzzards decided to stop.

They perched on the south pillar, gazed everywhere, but the only dead thing was the tree standing there. Those two birds were a little bit down in the mouth, ‘til they saw something interesting there to the south.

There it stood, at 131 compass degrees. They flew seventeen paces, as nice as you please, to an 8x10 inch piece of solid cement. There was something behind it! They picked up a scent!

Well, they pushed with their heads and they pushed with their feet, and they soon got behind that flat piece of concrete! “Here’s a box!” exclaimed Alfred, completely dismayed. “Look inside! Hope it something that’s gross and decayed!”

When they opened it up, they turned white as a sheet, and old Clark said a word that I dare not repeat! No dead cow! No dead horse, and no rotten old fox! All they found was a notebook and stamp in that box!

Now, those buzzards were pretty darn blue, at that point, and believe me, their beaks were a bit out of joint, but they put that box back where it was, nice and neat, quite perturbed that they didn’t find something to eat!

Well, those buzzards took off, but that box is still there. It’s behind that concrete, but I warn you… beware! Just avoid the darn thing like a case of Small Pox, ‘cause you don’t wanna see what they left in the box!




























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