Shawdowy, drooping, black, hunched over shapes catch the eye and rip it from its' socket realizing there are a dozen or more of these shapes hanging in what used to be a living, vribrant tree. 

In Chatham and all around Pittsylvania County, the vultures live communally. 

Turning the corner from the highway, their forboding large, black feathered bodies lurk in the limbs of a dying tree. Recalling the mangled limbs and protruding red innerds of an unlucky white tail deer lying prostrate in the road, I came to a conclusion:

it seems the Vultures know about rush hour.

 

All visible factors show no need to pounce on their already still breakfast while cars whiz past, disturbing their feast.

 

  Vultures know about rush hour,

 

it will all be over soon and from then until around noon,

they can twist and tear that flesh and bone from limb to limb and be all alone. No honking horns, no screeching tires giving them rise to snatch and run, they've only just begun. 

 

I must conclude, as clues exude: 

 

Vultures KNOW about rush hour!