The Mysterious Vulture identified finally

I have been watching these hawks and other various birds of prey onsite everyday as they are very entertaining and full of fun as they circle and dive and catch insects, the vultures are a different thing and just circle round and then fly away quickly, sensing there are no dead bodies about. But the are some birds in the group that I have been trying to identify as there colours are pretty indistinct, even the Roadside Hawk has only the red flight feathers that are a dead give away to its identification. There are a few others and even the so called vulture that was almost laughing at me the other morning still didn’t look like a real vulture as it was too small but it had the red head and after pouring through my online bird books I have come to the conclusion it is the Black Caracara.

The white basal tail feathers I saw this morning were the key to its final naming. This comes back to another point I made the other day that small things start becoming quite important in the daily routine on this camp. Spending lots of time just determined to identify a bird i saw.
We had some dancing girls and a Fiesta last night at the camp. This was a mixed blessing as the dancing was a welcome relief but the musical accompaniment was of a country style that I cannot come to terms with. They play with a typical Peruvian style and beat and play the saxophone like the pan pipes and that was grating to the point I thought my teeth were going to vibrate out of gums and fall on the floor. It was a nice gesture by the company to give us this entertainment for the Local Independence Day Celebrations, we were all asked to attend in out uniforms but I don’t have one and turning up in Marathon Oil shirt wouldn’t go down very well I think, but marching to the sound of military style music isn’t my sort of scene. I don’t do the military thing anywhere, I even have a big deal giving my boss the sort of respect I should. I was the worst sort of kid at school for that attitude also, I couldn’t accept that idiots who were teaching me and should have been painting walls or digging in the fields were telling me that I was wrong or I was stupid. My school days were a catalogue of nightmares for any parent and that was because I was bored with the lack of stimulus at school. They were dumbing down the level to such a point that they never stretched anyone and many of my old school friends told me afterwards, it was a great school for having fun but as an educational establishment it was shocking and I think that many teachers are only there because they cannot do anything else. So the moral of the story is , if you can get your kids to a school where they have a miserable time but get educated properly they will fare better in life afterwards and thrive on it, even if you have to pay for it