Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Maybe,” Henry says, shrugging his broad shoulders. “But sometimes hawks find a site that they like and decide to try it out. Besides, you guys are close enough to Central Park that they can still hunt squirrels and other small prey there. Your trees aren’t that tiny either. What are they? Scotch pines?”
“Yeah,” Carl says grudgingly. “As our resident gardener-in-charge, I know they were purchased about twenty years before I moved in. We had an old owner who nurtured the trees to the size they are now. It takes a lot of work because they’re obviously in containers and need to be watered constantly. We have professional gardeners coming in once a month, but I like to keep an eye on things myself.”
“Of course,” Henry says agreeably. “Scotch pines are a lot of work but a lot of buildings in NYC use them as rooftop greenery actually.”
“Oh, do they also have families of red-tailed hawks nesting in their trees?” I ask with enthusiasm.
Henry chuckles.
“No, only you guys have them, so you’re lucky that way. But you know that Pale Male in Central Park is a red-tailed hawk, right? He’s one of the first hawks to raise chicks in an urban environment.”
I start.
“Pale Male? Really?”
Henry nods.
“Yeah, the famous one, although Pale Male died recently. He lived to his thirties though, which is a long time for any animal in the wild. Not only that, but his nest wasn’t exactly in Central Park. It was at one of those big, fancy co-ops on Fifth Avenue.”
“Holy shit,” Carl whistles. “The co-op didn’t run him out?”
“They did,” Henry replies in a wry voice. “But there was international outcry, and so the co-op decided to let the birds stay. Pale Male raised a lot of chicks too. He was a patriarch of sorts, with a number of different female partners, but they’re gone now with his death. In the meantime, I could show you the birds nesting on your rooftop if you like. I brought my binoculars, although you won’t need them since the trees on your property aren’t that huge.”
I start.
“You want to see the hawks now?”
Henry shrugs and grins, his expression humorous.
“If you’re up for it. I realize that we just met, but I swear, I’m not trying to rob you or stalk you or anything. We can even start by looking at your rooftop from the roof of the library across the street. That’s how I found you guys. I can see your building from the library’s pavilion.”
I stare at him.
“The public library?”
Henry winks.
“The one and only.”
“Alright, let’s check it out,” Carl says in a deep voice. “We’ll see what’s visible from that vantage point and then go from there.”
Henry grins, standing up.
“Let’s get at it then.”
Stunned, I stand before exchanging glances with James, Carl, and Chris. This man doesn’t seem like a criminal, but then again, that’s not what we were expecting either. Instead, we suspected Henry of being a voyeuristic pervert, but now he’s offering to show us the bird family nesting on our roof. Is it possible the handsome man’s actually normal? It seems hard to believe, but there’s only one way to find out.
Within a few minutes, we’ve entered the New York Public Library. There’s a branch across from our building, and sure enough, Henry leads us up the stairs to the rooftop.
“Are we supposed to be here?” I ask as he pushes open a heavy metal door.
“Not exactly,” Henry acknowledges with a sly grin. “But this particular library doesn’t have working fire alarms, so I’ve been able to come up here on the sly. You know how the city is. New York’s always short on money, and so they find ways to cut costs in the worst ways possible.”
I shake my head.
“But skimping on fire alarms? That’s terrible. People could lose their lives!”
Henry nods his dark head.
“Absolutely. I’ve called 3-1-1 multiple times about this issue, and they took my messages, but the fact is that I think the higher ups already know. Again, I believe that the non-working fire alarms are deliberate. It’s really sad.”
The four of us are quiet as we circle around the terrace until we’re facing our building. Then, Henry squints as he looks at our rooftop before bringing the binoculars to his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t think the hawk’s there right now, but there’s definitely a nest among the branches.”
He hands the binoculars to me, and I hold them to my eyes.
“Hmm, where am I supposed to be looking here?”
“Try the top of the tallest scotch pine,” Henry says. “About three quarters of the way up. Look to the interior, near the trunk.”
I scan over the tree slowly, and then sure enough, my eyes alight upon a dark mass among the branches.
“Is that what I think it is?”
James whistles by my side, his gaze fixed in the same direction.