Just watched the most beautiful show on PBS, a documentary about "Pale Male", a red-tailed hawk who has raised a couple of dozen of generations of chicks fron his window ledge nest on Central Park in New York City. The nest (which was built -- ironically -- on top of spikes designed to keep pigeons away) is on the side of the building where Woody Allen lives, so it's quite swank (overlooking Central Park).
In the last decade, Pale Male has survived the loss of three mates and is now living with a fourth, still rearing young, showing them how to fly, hunt, taking care of them until they can go forth on their own. So many people are fans of this hawk and his story that there are entire websites devoted to it. People show up day after day with cameras and binoculars in the Spring, when the chicks hatch, to see their progress, and finally to see them take their first, hesitant flights out of the only nest they've ever known. High up on a city window. Their feet have never, ever touched a single treetop before they are forced, of necessity, to take wing.
Spread those wings and fly, baby, fly!!
To me, Pale Male betokens Nature in the Big Apple, as a survivor of the first order. He just lives his life with all he's got. In spite of great odds. He is, if you like, the quintessential "Just Do It" bird.
Such enthralling stuff!
L.A.E.
