The Tale of Pale Male (2 page)

Lola settles into their home, as Pale Male flies back and forth, back and forth, bringing provisions to the mother-to-be.

Evidence of Lola's meals falls to the balcony below.

The people living there are
not
happy about it!

As spring blossoms appear on the trees, Pale Male and Lola perch on the edge of their nest— moving up and down, up and down, dropping food in.

Are baby chicks hidden there?

Yes!

At last the chicks peek out—all downy soft like dandelions.

And below, the watchers cheer.

Mama and Papa stay busy—back and forth, back and forth—bringing food for their two hungry chicks.

When the blossoms give way to leaves, the fledglings—fuzzy chicks no more—practice using their wings.

Flit flap, flit flap, flit flap—they want to fly!

At last the fledglings are ready. They perch on the edge of the nest for a long, long time.

And then—flit flap, flit flap—they lift off into the air. Will they fall?

No!

The fledglings land safely on nearby buildings.

Happy watchers applaud.

The young birds fly from ledge to ledge— the buildings like trees, the ledges like branches.

Pale Male shows them how to flap and glide.

Soon the fledglings fly over the traffic on Fifth Avenue to Central Park.

Mama and Papa teach their young birds to hunt.

Mice and rats are tastiest, but a plump pigeon will do nicely.

The Redtails hunt, glide, soar, and dive all day, and then at twilight return to their home on high.

By now the hawk family is famous.

But not everyone loves the hawks. On a cold, rainy day in December—when no one is watching— the apartment people install a window-washer platform near the empty winter nest.

Workers stuff all four hundred pounds of the carefully gathered sticks, twigs, and bits of bark into big plastic bags— even the pigeon spikes that supported the nest.

The apartment people are happy.

No more falling bones. No more mess!