How does working out correlate to exploring wildlife in urban areas? Just as lifting weights is counterintuitive to my body, so is searching for wildlife in a city’s downtown. But I had to try. Realizing a rigid workout wasn’t for me led to yoga. So what would Sam and I find exploring the urban beast’s green underbelly? We’d find out at Joe Chillura Courthouse Square in Tampa’s urban core.

     But first, next to our car, Sam had to explore a rock-filled square with a tree stump carved out of the concrete sidewalk. He dug, scattering rocks to his side. I crossed Zen garden off my toddler’s gift list. Craving satisfied, Sam stood on the stump, king of the concrete square.

     We walked past Fred B. Karl County Center to Chillura Square where organizers prepared a Veteran’s Day program. But Sam was more interested in the park’s benches and short ledges, his Pavlovian reflex to climb. I’ve learned to allot time for spontaneous climbs during walks. The Tasmanian Devil’s tornadic tantrum is a graceful pirouette compared to Sam’s meltdown when he’s interrupted.  

As Sam played, I watched for wildlife, my Pavlovian reflex to trees. About two dozen oak trees buffer the park. In our backyard I’ll find blue jays, definitely squirrels, or at least their markings on the compost bin, the back porch, the sand box, the bird feeder, but I digress. The oak trees near me we’re quiet, no signs of rustling or scampering; very odd to see trees without movement. There had to be wildlife somewhere. So I scanned the skyline of nearby buildings. And never have I been happier to see vultures! Beautiful, ominous, soaring black vultures (click here for an explanation of why they’re in downtown Tampa)! 

     I’d found Chillura Square’s yoga moment. Since it’s void of other wildlife, you can focus on vultures and explain how every animal, even the ugly ol’ vulture plays an important role in our world. Next time your question mark asks who cleans up the pancaked squirrel in the middle of the road, pounce on the virtues of talons, sharp beaks and a strong stomach. Better that than claiming the squirrel’s really relaxed and the road’s a mat, okay sweetie? Kids can handle carrion, so tell them the truth.

     Anybody can watch pelicans, or alligators, or wading birds, or any other animal on Florida’s exhaustive list – a gift – of wildlife you might see going to the mall or crossing Gandy Bridge (remember, people pay to vacation here and see our everyday wonders). But why not try vulture gazing at Chillura Square? Stretch out, relax and soar.

     Not convinced? Then think of it of this way: tangentially, vulture gazing helps the manatees. And everybody wants to help the manatees. How? By vulture gazing, you’re one less cooing face annoying the manatee. You are manatee crowd control. A real friend of the manatee. That cuddly gray grin? It’s a grimace, an expressive plea for space. It’s a little (very little) known fact that McDonald’s Grimace was a walking manatee, purple sunshine for manatee fans to get their fix elsewhere. With billions served every day, it seemed like a foolproof campaign. Collectively, manatees cut their lettuce budget to pay for the campaign, which led to a low-cost catalyst for the McDLT. I don’t miss the McDLT, do you?     

     Please watch vultures.