First on the scene was the intrepid squirrel, racing across from the mostly pecan side of the street to the mostly acorn side of the street, in the midst of which venture he met his untimely end.

Within seconds of his demise, two black vultures were on the scene, in a contest to be the first to have at his remains. One drove the other away a short distance and began his banquet. Viscera were the appetizers (or “starters,” as so many say these days). The sound effects were akin to those of an over-stretched elastic band being pulled to the snapping point.

Vulture number two was intermittently driven up onto a tree limb when it approached too closely, but would return for overlooked tidbits of squirrel on the pavement.

Three other vultures arrived, to make five, but they never succeeded in approaching as near as number two and had to be satisfied with watching from tree limbs and the utility pole.

Black vultures are smaller and less fearful than the larger red-headed turkey vultures. They seem to be more common these days than they used to be.

It’s astonishing how oblivious passers-by can be, even pedestrians, with their earbuds and their texting. Of the several who passed within inches of this sight, only one noticed, did a double-take, and hurried on at a faster pace.

Advice to squirrels would be to look both ways before crossing.