By Michael Blankenship

It's just not fair. Vultures—from the famous California condor (Gymnogyps californianus) to the more common black and turkey vultures (Coragyps atratus and Cathartes aura)—get such a bad rap. All too many of us find the thought of their food ghastly and their appearance horrifying. We respond to them with a shudder rather than with wonder.

It's true that they're scavengers; they feed on the earthly remains of other animals. But we aren't doing justice to these most necessary—and fascinating—of wild neighbors when we react to them with disgust. We don't often find ourselves disgusted by the many other scavengers in our world, from single-celled bacteria to grizzly bears. Almost all predators scavenge opportunistically. Some simply excel at it. Indeed, our own distant ancestors made their living in large part by scavenging the African savanna only a few million years ago. And we often don't stop to consider how necessary vultures are in our ecosystem. Where would we be without scavengers to clean things up?

In fact, the New World vultures' ability to digest decaying flesh without succumbing to illness from the toxins and microorganisms in it is amazing, when you think about it. And they do have limits on what they'll eat, always preferring fresher meat and avoiding severely decomposed carcasses. Their featherless heads are a fascinating adaptation to their dietary habits—bare skin is easier to keep clean than feathers. And their range across the continent testifies to their success, especially for such large birds. In fact, black and turkey vulture populations are growing from the lower levels of a few decades ago, even though the outlook for the future of California condors remains bleak.

But this isn't all that's special about vultures. They are the undisputed masters of soaring, skillfully taking advantage of thermal updrafts to economically stay aloft for hours and travel up to 140 miles in a day of foraging—in spite of their large, relatively heavy bodies. Their wingspans range from nearly five feet to over nine, and they control their flight with precision, often by fine-tuning the angle of only a few feathers on their slotted wingtips. Aeronautical engineers have taken a cue from these wingtips and now include "finlets" on modern airliners like Boeing 747s to reduce drag and increase lift.

These birds use their keen eyesight to locate food, but turkey vultures also use their sense of smell—a very unusual ability among birds. Like their relatives the Old World storks, vultures have another unusual habit. In a noteworthy air-conditioning technique, they spray liquid feces on their feet to take advantage of evaporation for cooling.

And vultures aren't the cruel, cantankerous animals so many of us think they are. These long-lived birds mate for life and are known to cooperate with one another in finding carcasses and in gaining access to them. Their pair bonding flights are stately, beautifully coordinated aerial feats, and male courtship displays are theatrical spread-winged dances.

So the next time you see vultures circling effortlessly high overhead—or feeding by the side of the highway—give them a break. They're not the repulsive creatures you may think. They're actually worthy of wonder—in more ways than one.