ENCHANTED FOREST OF VULTURES

On a dark and stormy winter's eve, a lamp glows in the sacred trees.

Circling silence in the quiet of night. Stillness with no sound of flight.

Entering into their final hours with solemn silent wings...

The wind turns and feathers rest on the breast...

Of the secret song they sing.





Poem and photography by Janette
These photos taken at Eagle Mountain Lake. Hundreds of black vultures nest in this region and on magical nights such as this, we have the privilege of watching and listening to their evensong.