For almost a week, New Yorkers — and now people around the globe — have been caught up in the saga of Pale Male, a red-tailed hawk, and the rich and powerful tenants who occupy the multimillion dollar apartments at swanky 927 Fifth Avenue.
Last Tuesday, Pale Male’s massive nest, shared since 1993 with mate Lola and, at various times, 23 offspring, was unceremoniously removed from its perch 12 stories above the building’s entrance. (Tenants objected to the occasional pigeon or rat entrails they found on their stoop.) Iron spikes that anchored the twig structure also were taken down. The future of the hawks was thrown into doubt.
New Yorkers have been held rapt by Pale Male since he was first spotted setting up house on some of the most expensive real estate on the planet over a decade ago. Central Park regularly sprouts telescopes so viewers might gaze upon the regal raptor and his burgeoning family; it’s safe to say that, singlehandedly, Pale Male and his stern visage turned tens of thousands of urban captives into avid birdwatchers. So, within 24 hours, news outlets had mobbed the story of the popular predator’s abrupt eviction. Vigils were mounted outside the building as TV crews captured the bird’s futile efforts to rebuild his urban eyrie on a curved window cornice with no supporting spikes. On Saturday, the New York Times published a detailed reconstruction of the decision leading up to Pale Male’s eviction.
This got us to wondering: In an era in which Paris Hilton is touted by CBS News as one of the “most fascinating people of 2004,” and Michael Jackson’s every prurient move garners headlines, why does the plight of a bird family still captivate our interest? We’d like to think it’s more than just the celebrity angle. (Both Paula Zahn and Mary Tyler Moore live in the building, and let’s just say their views on Pale Male are apparently diametrically opposed).
What makes this a good story? Pale Male, in his own way, unlike Paris Hilton, represents underdogs everywhere — a creature of the wild, relentlessly succeeding against all odds in making a life for himself and his progeny in a city that no one ever confused with a diorama of Mother Nature.
Plus, of course, it’s one more proof of something a crusty old city editor once told us: “Put an animal story on page one, and you’ll sell papers.”
— Susan Q. Stranahan
Susan Q. Stranahan wrote for CJR.