The Scavengers

In the Spring of 2024, there was a solar eclipse, and southern Illinois had a front row seat. Friends gathered at the cabin for a weekend of hiking, bird watching, visiting, and just sitting, looking at nature happen. On a particular afternoon hike to the Cache River wetlands and cypress swamp I took the opportunity to watch for roadkill. I had a plan. For years I had been interested in building a kind of pedestal upon which a dead animal could be perched, straight across from the big pond dock. In this way, one might sit on the dock and watch from afar as turkey vulture came in to do their work.
I have a fascination with vultures. They are the vacuum cleaners for the earth. Majestic, community oriented, and relentless, they, along with all the beings that consume carrion, from eagles to the tiniest of beetles, rid the earth of deteriorating carcasses that would otherwise spread disease, and make it impossible to be outside at all.
On the day of the hike, none of my friends knew my plan. But as we drove south toward Herron Pond, I saw my chance: there, along Illinois route 45, I saw a freshly killed racoon, likely hit by a car the night before. I yelled for Tom to stop and pull over. He did and I jumped out of the car pulling a hefty bag from my purse. Problem was, he wouldn’t let me put it in his BMW. But Bob, who also pulled over let me throw it in the back of his truck. After the hike, on the way back to the cabin, I told Tom my plan: we would build a kind of platform on which the racoon would be tethered, so that no animals could drag it off. Tom was dubious, but when we got up to the barn, we went to work gathering what would be needed: an old wash tub, some fencing, wire, and masks. (Tom looked a little green around the gills at the prospect of handling the dead racoon). We took all the materials up on the levy right across the pond from the dock. We pulled out the racoon still dripping blood and smelling very dead. The masks ended up being a very good idea! We used the fencing to secure the racoon and drove stakes through the fencing into the ground to hold it in place, and wire to sinch where needed. We finally completed our gruesome task and joined the others on the porch. Lots of kibitzing, lots of chiding, but most felt it was a good plan and curiosity was high. In the morning, three vultures came to the racoon. It was on!
Within the first 3 days, I realized I had made a significant mistake: we had set up the platform in full sun. Quickly the racoon was completely dried out and the vultures lost interest. But then came the beetles: all sizes and varieties moved into the carcass of the racoon. Soon the hair was gone, and nocturnal creatures such as coyotes and perhaps even foxes and racoons came and pulled at it’s limbs to get to the dried flesh. After about a week all manner of bees and wasps came, including honeybees, to take their share of nourishment from the racoon. A few days after that, walking the levy in the dewy morning, I came upon a sight I wasn’t expecting at all: the racoon was covered in butterflies! There were five or six different kinds of butterflies in a frenzy getting to the minerals or other nutrients offered by this now mostly decomposed animal. Monarchs, admirals, checkerspots, swallowtails, fritillaries, and blues adorned the now grey and hollowed out racoon with beautiful color and movement. It was a dance of celebration. It was the dance of the circle of life. It was something I new I had to capture in a painting. The painting required no thought, no plan. It was all there in lived experience. The Scavengers.
For Michelle and Tyler, June 2025