Call of the WIld

There are fireflies in Central Park. Lots of fireflies. I never expected this. When I last lived in New York City, in 1980, and then before that in 1975, there may well have been fireflies in the Park, but the Park itself was so dangerous that I was never in it to see them. But a couple of nights ago, on a humid sultry night, I saw them glowing green with their hopeful message: "I'm here! Find me! Find me!" Sex in the City indeed.

An even more thrilling sighting occurred earlier in the firefly day. I was walking, daydreaming, and I saw a hawk swoop low over the bridle path. I stopped, searching the tree I thought it had flown into to catch a better view, but couldn't find it. I gave up, and turned to leave,and froze. He was just above me, in the tree I was standing next to, staring at mee. When a big redtailed hawk looks at you, you get very still. The great bird was right there, so very close, and magnificent. Lunching on what I think was a squirrel, he looked me over, and then went back to his meal, rarely again glancing my way. I stood there for a very long time, watching him, close to tears. I lived in the Adirondack Mountain Wilderness Preserve for 12 years, and then in "the country" for another 6, but have never in my life been so close to a redtail as I just was in Manhattan. Manhattan!
Well, I was awed into stillness, but not so the little birds. A general alarm went up, which got noisier as the hawk finished his meal. Finally a small bird started to harass the raptor, flying at him, slamming into him and ricocheting away only to return for another blow. The big bird fluffed himself lazily to another branch, got slammed again, moved again, bang, again, and then finally, to the still-escalating chorus of alarms and complaints, lifted off across the roadway, pelted all the while by several more small birds. I have seen songbirds drive off hawks and owls this way before, but again, never so close.