A small crowd had gathered, everyone’s head towards the top of the lamppost aligning the paths of Washing Square Park. Cellphones were held aloft, aiming at the lantern, on top of which was one of the famed Red Tailed Hawks that have made this part their home. Where they come from, why they stay, when exactly they appeared, no one knows. I like to think they are from a family line that has been on the isle of Manhatto since before even the Native Americans.
I had never seen the Hawks before. There are better pictures of and more information about them available elsewhere on the internet. What struck me about the crowd was their obvious awe and reference; the hawks inspired a sense of wonder, and quiet. They whispered to each other.
The bird seemed so proud, oblivious to the gawking, as if to say, I have long adapted to your presence here, and you will in no way interfere with my monitoring the park for prey. Such a beautiful bird, regal and strong. If a roman general saw a hawk on the way to battle he knew today would be a good day to fight, or die.
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