On Saturday, walking through Central Park on our way back from seeing the Kiki Smith exhibit at the Whitney, we spied a red-tailed hawk. We’d been lucky enough to see hawks before—in Washington State, Idaho, and Montana—but never smack in the center of New York City. But there it was, at around 3 pm, perched in a tree and plucking feathers out of its lunch, a little south of the Still Hunt statue.
Was it Pale Male? His partner, Lola? His son, Jr.? Who knows? It was, most definitely, spectacular.
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