Lola was the cause of alarm which caused a large flock of pigeons foraging at the Hawk Bench to disperse eastward over the Model Sailboat Pond. They flew off in two groups a few seconds apart, the latter displayed more panic than the former.
Our graceful lady, now that I look back, cared the less then for upsetting the Sunday morning foraging of those hardy pigeons, because she had a matter much more pressing to her heart stirring on her precious mind. She cruised up Fifth Avenue and I lost her as she turned onto one of the streets in the upper seventies to cross over to Madison Avenue.
I didn’t see when she landed on the chimney cover of the Oreo building and I really couldn’t tell for sure, except from past habit, that it was in fact our Lola perched there.
As he has done so many times before, Palemale emerged not very long after from some place unseen and soared above the Dr. Fisher building. With no accountable flapping of his wings I noticed him growing smaller and smaller as he climbed up to the sky. I thought against capturing any handheld images of him which would have only been a hardly recognizable black smear against the hazy sunlight. I kept my eyes on him though, and marveled as I did how effortlessly he gained altitude.
I held my camera off its tripod as I watched him presently barely visible against the bright glare of broken cloud cover. Suddenly I saw his wings changed shape and his body began to dart earthward. He was pelting toward 79th Street! I immediately clamped the heavy lens onto the tripod head and vocalized a thought which I had repeatedly promised myself not to get in the way of my observations-- nevertheless my words were uttered into the frigid air as I stood at the edge of the pond. The actions which those words described are now illustrated in the four frames above.
