Guilderland, N.Y.

They perch like solemn gargoyles on tree limbs and rooftops. They soar and glide with style. And they eat the meat that's left for them, morning after morning.

These are the vultures of Willey Street, a flock that's found a comfortable home in the Westmere section of Guilderland. The birds hang out on the quiet suburban street for one reason: Patricia House feeds them.

"The only thing they want is dead, raw meat," she said.

So that's what House places in her yard in the early morning, just beyond her back porch. The self-described animal lover believes she's helping the vultures survive a difficult winter when food might otherwise be scarce.

But neighbors are weary of living in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. The birds, famously macabre, are always lurking.

"They're creepy," said Mark Healey, whose parents live across from House.

"Our kids are afraid to walk past her house," said Brian Schneider, who lives a few homes away. "They run by to get to the school bus stop."

The ghoul factor is bad enough. But neighbors are really tired of the poop that rains down on their houses, cars and yards from creatures that seem perfectly content in this corner of suburbia.

"I counted 32 of them this morning," Healey said Tuesday. "More and more birds are coming."

With a wingspan of 5 to 6 feet, black and turkey vultures are elegant enough to be mistaken for bald eagles — from a distance, when they're soaring high above. But to most eyes, their beauty disappears with closer inspection. They have hideous heads, black or red, featherless and wrinkled, with beaks designed to pluck flesh from bone.

The Atlas of Breeding Birds in New York State describes turkey vultures thusly: "Repulsive to look at, offensive in habits, clumsy and awkward on the ground, but the personification of grace and skill in the air."

Vultures rarely attack, and they are not considered a threat to children or small animals. They prefer that somebody else do the dirty work.

I walked past two vultures on my way into House's living room. They didn't seem bothered.

Inside, House assured me she's not a kook, hoarder or crazy cat lady. She was once, in fact, the town's animal control officer. She retired from the Guilderland Police Department job in 2000.

"I'm not a fanatic," she said. "But I do care about animals."

House says she never meant to attract the flock. The whole mess started, she says, when she began feeding a pair of injured vultures.

Soon, the daily buffet began attracting an ever-larger crowd.

True to their reputation, vultures do enjoy a free meal.

"I want everybody to know that I'm not trying to create a problem," House said. "I tried to solve a problem by helping these animals survive the winter."

House believes the vultures should be considered little more than a minor neighborhood annoyance, akin to barking dogs or screaming children. Nevertheless, House says she's sympathetic to concerns about the fecal mess and will stop the feeding when the weather warms.

Problem solved?

Maybe not.

Neighbors say they've heard similar promises before, but House never stops the feasts. Complaints to the town, they add, never bring action.

Guilderland Supervisor Ken Runion and Police Chief Carol Lawlor each claimed there's little the town can do, because wildlife issues fall under the state's jurisdiction. A spokesman for the Department of Environmental Conservation said there's no law against feeding the birds.

Also, vultures are migratory birds (when they're not being fed) and are thus protected by federal law. Neighbors, no matter how frustrated, are prohibited from harming them.

So the vultures of Willey Street continue on, the size of the flock depending on the time of day. I easily spotted about a dozen during my midday visits, but neighbors say there are many more in the morning, when they're fed.

They're even becoming an attraction, of sorts, on the dead-end street. While I visited with House, a van driver stopped to take pictures. That happens often, she said.

Across the street, Healey has photos of his own, showing vultures waiting like sentinels on the pitch of a neighbor's roof.

"They know when it's feeding time," he said.

Despite the frustration, Willey Street seems to have remained refreshingly cordial.

House said she has "lovely neighbors." They, in turn, expressed anger at the town's inaction, but mostly described House as kindhearted. They just wish she'd stop the free meals.

I didn't interview the vultures, but I assume they feel otherwise.

cchurchill@timesunion.com • 518-454-5700 • @chris_churchill