enchantment

Spring is in the air in New York today. Junior and Charlotte, the pair of Red-tailed hawks who live across the street from my office window, were just observed soaring high above, slowly circling in a synchronized dance, gradually spiraling down to land in their nesting area high up the building at 888 Seventh Avenue. Usually I don’t see them until mid-afternoon. Although I am becoming more used to their presence, each episode still inspires awe – they enchant me with their regal bearing and their ability to glide effortlessly, often seeming to almost stop their motion – that is when they cast their spell and time stands still.

This past weekend we fell under a different spell. I met my very first stallion, an Andalusian aptly named “Brujo.” His name is translated variously as wizard, magician, sorcerer – he is a fairy tale horse like no other I have personally encountered. His owner, and the owner of the beautiful facility where the Centered Riding clinic was held, is Sue Holtz of Woodbine Equestrian Center. She kindly let us tag along with her and introduced us to Brujo, who was holding court out in his spacious paddock field. She patiently explained some of the aspects of stallion behavior as we gaped at him -- incredulous, smitten. While she emphasized that the “biting” movements of his mouth and lips are typical of stallions, part of their need for stimulation and contact and do not necessarily indicate ill will, she also made sure that we understood that Brujo does bite and that she must not allow him to even catch hold of a piece of her jacket – the next time he could bite her arm and crush the bones.

Helene and I were sufficiently impressed with the above information and kept our distance. We observed him from afar as he pranced back and forth, keeping an eye on his empire and all activity taking place within it. Sue told us that Brujo, as the stallion on the farm, feels a great responsibility – he feels in charge of all the other horses – geldings and mares and ponies alike, and with each visitor to the property he re-asserted his dominance with another flashy pass across the field, head tossing, glorious mane flowing, his complete awareness very apparent.

Later in the afternoon when Helene received permission to feed him an apple, I asked Annelie to come along, partially to keep an eye on us. Brujo was a perfect gentleman, taking the slices from our flat palms, even allowing us to pet him and fawn over him briefly – until the apple was gone, that is. Then he was off, back to the serious business of keeping track of all and everything.

When the clinic was officially over, we lingered, chatting with new friends, Helene spoiling horses, dogs and chickens with treats and affection. I followed Sue out to the paddock and watched as she put a halter on Brujo and, dressage crop at the ready, led him purposefully to his stall in the barn. I also watched, fascinated, as she groomed and tacked him up – noticing her focus and vigilance throughout the process. We were then rewarded with the thrill of seeing her ride him in the outdoor ring. Here was masterful riding we could only dream of, the power and beauty of their movement heart-stopping, the intensity of their relationship mesmerizing. Magic was in the air as we left, reluctantly heading back to the City – the enchanted ones left behind barely noticed our departure.

Above are some photos documenting our ensorcellment.***

***en·sor·cell ( n-sôr s l); en·sor cell·ment n.: To enchant; bewitch.
[French ensorceler, from Old French ensorcerer, ensorceler : en-, intensive pref.; see en-+ sorcier, sorcerer.]

hawk's eye view

Yesterday I was lured into another dimension of life’s expression, here in New York. This is where I live – an environment which can alternately overload or numb the senses. Because everything lately is filtered through the lens of horses and riding, an experience of this nature cannot escape that process.

Central Park is an urban oasis for many of us. As a new vista for me, and in my purview for a good part of each waking day, it has altered my perspective. I know all the stories of birdwatchers and nature lovers – I’ve seen lots of ducks and observed a couple of long-legged water birds from the heights of Belvedere Castle. But since moving to this office, the shadow of a larger bird has slowly entered my consciousness. Yesterday it burst in upon me unexpectedly and gave me a glimpse of grandeur.

Ironically, I was speaking on the phone to my daughter who is living out in the real Big Sky country of Montana; in further irony, we were discussing my colleagues’ trip to the remote areas of New Zealand where they are hiking, hoping to see rare flora and fauna. At that moment the large bird I had only recently seen from a distance, glided past the window where I was standing, so close I could almost reach out and touch it, the incredible detailing of the wing feathers in clear relief on a day of brilliant sun against a crisp blue sky. In slow motion, it soared and circled and glided and hovered, almost lingering, then repeated its path. So poignant, I felt – what was this creature doing in this City? How lucky for me to view it in this way – how else would you climb to the heights where he soars?

Somehow I knew – this is a Red-tailed hawk. Then I looked uptown and thought, well at least he has the Park. He or she -- well I’m not sure. Then I remembered the story of the famous hawks nesting at the exclusive Fifth Avenue address. A day later, after enlightening myself (see websites referenced below), I understand that I was most certainly visited by Pale Male or Lola or one of their offspring. And the thrill of my personal experience is undiminished by the fact that Pale Male and his brood are in fact quite famous, with books written, a PBS Nature documentary and many zealous supporters.

The impact is palpable, the fascination lingers – the metaphors, familiar: freedom, the fantasy of flight, soaring above it all, the perfection of form and function, the absolute naturalness of the activity -- powerful yet effortless. I am already dreaming of another visitation and surely I am not alone in this: “Many of us . . . feel that observing this large and powerful bird is akin to a spiritual or religious experience.” -- from The City Naturalist, by Leslie Day

A few other amazing facts about Red-tails, excerpts from the article:

DESCRIPTION: The largest North American Buteo is 19-25 inches long (female larger than male); wingspan up to 58 inches. Talons are large and sharp.

EYESIGHT: Amazing eyesight allows them to see small mice while soaring 100 feet above the ground. Although one third the size of an adult human male, their eyes are as large as a man's - sometimes larger. The greatest density of nerve receptors seen in any eye has been recorded for a hawk. Their eyes are specially adapted for rapid change of focus (while hunting they go into aerial dives of 120 mph!) and unlike most birds, hawks have binocular vision.

FEEDING HABITS: May hunt while soaring. They can snatch birds right out of the air. . . Most often watches for prey from perch in tree from which it takes off with powerful wingbeats, then glides toward ground and snatches prey from the ground with its powerful and sharp talons. When they extend their legs fully in a dive, tendons spread the claws. When it strikes its prey, the legs double up under the force of impact which automatically clenches the toes and talons. The talons then pierce the vital organs of the victim, causing instant death.

AGE: A captive female at Millbrook, N.Y., lived to 29 years old.

In Love With A Hawk

Birds of Central Park - Pale Male is the gorgeous cover image

The photo above, courtesy of Lincoln Karim, was taken last Valentine’s Day and shows Pale Male soaring in what is quite likely the area around my office building. His website contains so many amazing photographs, with narrative, posted almost daily since 2002. A beautiful recent entry.

Footnote: I could not resist stopping the building manager in the lobby this morning and asking him if he knew of the large hawk in the area. In his heavy New York accent he confirmed matter-of-factly that this is indeed the son of Pale Male and the nest is across the street. Every year they have chicks and he likes to hang out on the 43rd floor of our building. One time he encountered the bird up on the roof. Apparently not very impressed, he told me they are thick out on Long Island where he lives – you can see them on every telephone pole.