Tag: New York City

Not Adorable

They tried to pull the wool, or rather, the feathers over our eyes. But I discovered the truth and it is not pretty. I must share this truth with you.

You may have heard of this: There has been a tale of the on-again, off-again relationship of two red-tailed hawks that live in Tompkins Square Park in New York City. This pair, Christo, the male, and Dora, the female, have had a lot of press and most of it makes Christo out to be the Harvey Weinstein of hawks because it seems he has betrayed his love for Dora.

Now, Dora and Christo had 10 little hawks together and it has generally been thought that mated hawks mate for life—or thereabouts.

Well, the “thereabouts” seems more accurate, as “til death do us part” is not quite working out in this case.

You see Dora had a wing injury that required the services of skilled rehab people and when she was all well and good, they returned her to the park. This was in 2017. However, when she got back lo-and-behold Nora, another hawk, had entered the picture, taking poor Dora’s place.

About a year ago still another randy hawk named Amelia came in for a loving, landing in Christo’s lap (so to speak). Amelia was courted by the gamey Christo and then she also mated with him—and oh-my-heavens, they actually did the deed in Dora’s nest! Yes, now Christo had three females, Nora, Amelia and his old flame Dora.

Such contentment could not last. Hawks are not Mormons, delighting as they once did in polygamy. Dora decided to assert herself, taking back the reigns of lead wife, and she fought an epic air battle with Amelia high over Tompkins Square Park.

And she lost. She was no match for Amelia in battle or in bed (so to speak).

Dora had some serious wounds and had to be removed to Tackapausha Museum and Preserve in Seaford, New York, where she now spends her days eating rats and perhaps thinking of that rat she once loved.

Now the bones of this story certainly make Dora seem like the injured party in a love quadrangle, finagled by two other females and one horny male. But no story is really simple, is it?

According to Sara Dorn’s article “It’s a Coop D-Etat!” in the New York Post on Sunday, May 5, 2019, Dora was no wall flower, suffering from abuse by her mate and his new females. Instead she was a “queen,” a totally demanding mate who had Christo jumping (or, rather, flying) through hoops.

Cathy Horvath of Wildlife in Need of Rescue and Rehabilitation was quoted as saying that Dora was “not a friendly bird. She was the worst patient ever.”

Nature photographer Laura Goggin said that Dora indeed had a sharp personality and Christo “waited on her” claw and claw. It seems Amelia is far less abrasive on Christo than Dora. As far as those who watch Christo and his two current loves, Nora and Amelia, he seems like a far happier hawk.

The not adorable Dora has enough rats to keep her contented and out of Christo’s life. So you see, some stories have a happy ending.

Frank Scoblete’s books are available on Amazon.com, from Barnes and Noble, Kindle, e-books and at bookstores. His web site is www.frankscoblete.com.

Puffy Poodle Doodle Doodle

 

Germaine was in a state. She could not find Puffy Poodle Doodle Doodle’s winter coat. “Walter, I knew I had it but after I sent it out to be dry cleaned I don’t know where Cecilia put it and she took today as her weekly day. Of all the days!”

“It’s cold out there, Doodle could freeze to death,” said Walter turning the page of the New York Times. He wasn’t nearly as interested in the little puff ball as was his wife but he never let on; best to keep peace in the family. His wife could get into one of her “states” without much prompting.

It was cold too. January 15 and it was eight degrees! It had been 55 yesterday and then the temperature plummeted overnight. Oh, well, that was New York City weather. Up one day, down the next. It’s the price you paid for living in the greatest city in the world, thought Walter.

“I found it!” shouted Germaine just as the doorman called up, “A Ms. Livingston, ma’am.”

“Yes, yes, Maurice, send her right up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ms. Livingston was a college kid who walked dogs to earn some money. For Doodle, it was an alone walk for which Walter paid quintuple so that Doodle did not have to rub fur with other dogs. Germaine had insisted on that, “I do not want our wonderful Doodle with those other dogs, touching them and smelling their pee-pee and poo-poo.”

Germaine put on Doodle’s coat—a faux-fur over Doodle’s own thick fur.

Just for the record, Germaine did not work but she did attend daily lunches, symposia and club activities and she was well-known in philanthropic circles, “Those poor, poor Afroid-Americans and Lantinos all the way up-town; you have to feel sorry for them and all those drugs that they can’t stop taking. A little money can’t hurt them can it?” And that is what she gave, a little money.

All the women had dogs and some had dogs and cats. Germaine did not like cats. “They stare at you. They are not nice.” Germaine’s dog was the cutest and most obedient. She kept that to herself; she didn’t want the other women to feel inferior, although they must have felt inferior every time they saw Doodle and how well he behaved.

Outside Ms. Livingston walked Doodle. She wondered why this little dog that had so much fur needed a winter coat. Her dog walking clients had many odd habits but Germaine was in a league of her own.

Of course, Germaine was stereotypical too, a rich husband, ladies’ lunches, clubs, meetings, charity; living in a building of apartments with price tags of $10 million or more. Ms. Livingston doubted she would ever be rich, not when she was a philosophy major. Dog walking might be her future as well as her present, but after all, she did have a very special connection with dogs.

And this poor dog, sad too; it didn’t look happy in its faux-fur coat.

They were crossing the street near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The icy wind was whipping down the avenue. Ms. Livingston took another look at Doodle. She crouched down and cradled its manicured face in her hands. “What’s the matter?” she asked sweetly.

Little bundled-up Doodle gazed deeply in Ms. Livingston’s eyes. “I used to be a wolf,” he said sadly. “Now look at me.”

Frank’s latest books are Confessions of a Wayward Catholic; I Am a Dice Controller: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Craps, and I Am a Card Counter: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Blackjack. Available from Amazon.com, Kindle, Barnes and Noble, e-books and at bookstores.