Turkey Vulture

An unlikely teacher of tawakkul

I went on my first-ever birdwatching walk in Columbus, Ohio. I figured birdwatching might just be something I’d enjoy: it is done outside in nature, is not overly active and has a social component as well. But most importantly, I wanted to give it a try because I love birds. “You cannot love what you do not know,” the Islamic scholar Dr. Khaled Abou El Fadl said in a conversation about love. Ever since hearing it, that phrase had become a regular guest in my thoughts. “If I claim to love birds,” I thought, “perhaps I should make an effort to, at least, get to know their names.”

About a month later, I was getting ready for my first birdwatching walk on a Saturday morning during the first days of Ramadan, the month of fasting. Slightly grumpy, slightly tired, and slightly thirsty my friend and I set out on our adventure. “Do I strike you as the birdwatching type?!” he had asked me when I invited him to come along. Of course, he hinted at some stereotypical notions of what ‘birding’ is and who likes to do it: lovely but slightly boring white upper-class elderly folks with no shortage of time or money. They will gather every Sunday in some local park with their binoculars and bulky field guides, wearing socks and sandals, tan khaki shorts, and a matching hat safely kept in place by a convenient chin strap. “You absolutely strike me as the birdwatching type,” I teasingly responded, with a genuine sense of trust that, against all odds, we would both enjoy the experience.

As soon as we stepped outside, our volunteer guide, a young birding expert and enthusiast, managed to lure us into the wonderous world of birds. We were hooked, right from the first Phoebe until the last Mourning Dove. For that hour, the world of birds became our dwelling place. Our guide introduced the different birds like characters of a novel, describing them with beautiful detail and loving observation. It struck me how little I knew, and it struck me how much I loved learning.

My favorite character I was introduced to that day was the Turkey Vulture. Before that walk, I had heard of turkeys, and I had heard of vultures, but never had I dared to think that the two words could be combined. Our guide introduced the Turkey Vulture to us as a bird that surfs on the waves of the wind, not unlike the turtles in Finding Nemo surf the East Australian Current. Whereas other birds hastily flap their wings trying to get to where they want to go, the Turkey Vulture patiently soars through the sky, its wings perfectly still, hoping that the winds will guide it to a meal of carrion. And when the time for migration comes, Turkey Vultures do so with minimal effort by using the updrafts that develop on warm, sunny days to provide lift. They are the masters of their environment by being in complete surrender to it.

During the first days of Ramadan, I often feel nothing like a Turkey Vulture. Hastily I flap my wings and put in more effort than I have to spare. My goals are ambitious and, in all honesty, delusional. But after a while, usually, the phase of the Turkey Vulture arrives, when I realize it is rather foolish to set my expectations higher than the natural updrafts can take me. I then let the winds of Ramadan take me to where I trust I will find nutrition.

In Surah An-Nahl, ‘The Bee’, the 16th chapter of the Qur’an, God says “Have they not seen the birds glide in the open sky? None holds them up except God. Surely in this are signs for those who believe” (Qur’an 16:79). Whether the Turkey Vulture is tossed around on a windy day, or has to delay its migration due to a lack of updrafts, it simply surrenders and trusts that it will find what it needs to find. It is wholly dependent on the timely death of other creatures for its nutrition. It lives a life of complete tawakkul or trust.

I did not know it when I met the Turkey Vulture, but my housemate and I would later jokingly refer to that Ramadan as The Ramadan of Rejection, for that month one painful rejection after another would come my way. But by the grace of ar-Rahman, the Most Merciful, I had met the perfect teacher to guide me through that challenging month. And so I trusted that the storms would guide my way, as I imagined the Turkey Vulture smiling at me, and reminding me that rejection is simply redirection.

Make of my heart a bird of prey

Surfing through the storms each day

Surrendered to the winds, in peace

Knowing that they guide the way