HOUSTON DAD FOUND GROUNDED!

Photograph by Francois Portmann
7:30am I'm asleep and I haven't been asleep all that long when suddenly I hear Harrison Ford say, "I'm Indiana Jones". A bull whip cracks and the Indiana Jones music swells up...it's my phone. Geez, it's my phone. Samantha, my daughter, had downloaded it "for me". Adam Welz is on the other end saying something about Francois, and the Houston tiercel. "What?"

I admit it I'm not a morning person. Yes I watch birds, but in the morning? Only on special occasions. I do not keep a life list--Am I still a birdwatcher? "What did you say, Adam?"

He repeats, "I said, Francois Portmann went over to..." Adam yawns, "Went over to East River Park and the Houston Dad is just standing there."

He also said some other things which are all rather fuzzy, but that was the important gist. I call Francois. He's tried calling the Horvaths and gotten disconnected. I say, "I'll grab a cab and come over."

I press the rest of the family into service, "Cat carrier. I need one of the cat carriers. Where are my welding gloves?" I go in search of a towel. The only one that isn't too heavy is Sam's Harry Potter Towel. She's pretty asleep maybe she won't notice. Maybe I actually brush my hair, but then again maybe not. Money for cab and out the door. But not quite, a voice catches me half way. "Mooooom, that's my Harry Potter towel."

Stunningly I get a cab without too much trouble with a very friendly driver, originally from India who is wearing an absolutely stunning, bright yellow silk turban. Quite smashing actually, but a little brilliant for me at the moment. He asks, "Do you have a little kitty in the box?"

I say no, and go into the hawk on the ground and...Hawk? Hawk doesn't seem to be in his rather extensive vocabulary. Why should it be? Explanations ensue. We make it to Houston and the FDR and I give him a blog card so he can see how the hawk thing turns out.

Francois is way over on the far side of the AstroTurf baseball field. I know, whatever possessed them. Houston Dad is standing by the fence, not looking very good. Why? Because he's just standing there on the ground, staring. Not a bit normal.

Originally the formel had been close flying around in agitation. I assume attempting to convince him to get off the ground. Francois said when he came close she perched on the fence a ways down , and then went into a tree where she was no doubt still watching. Poor thing, first her kids and now her mate.

At some point in all this I've talked to Cathy Horvath who says, "Maybe he was flying around, chasing a pigeon, and he's just really tired." Hmmm. Maybe she wouldn't say that if she could see him, but then maybe again she would. We decide to watch him for awhile. Francois wants to go get his camera. No problem. I'll watch.

But Francois points out I shouldn't watch too obviously or someone will notice the bird and possibly call Animal Control, which would just complicate matters. Right, I'll watch but pretend I'm not.


I look at the carrier. I look at the bird. He's still staring. No drooping wing. No panting. No blood at least that I can see. His feet look okay. Wait, he just picked up on a bug flying by. That's hopeful--maybe.

The park isn't busy, but a jogger goes by in a bright yellow jogging suit. What is it with the bright yellow this morning. Maybe I look at the bird and give it away because the jogger suddenly notices and runs back a few steps, then forward, then repeats. He looks at me, the cat carrier, the welding gloves. I smile. He looks befuddled, then jogs away.

The AstroTurf is really heating up. The sun is really beating down. This can't be helping Mr. Houston. His nictitating eyelids close for what seems like a little too long...wait, he's scanning bugs again. Back to the 1000 mile stare.

Francois returns. I ask if Cathy had any suggestions. He said, she said something about a friend at the ASPCA.

The ASPCA? Do I know anyone there? Nope. Besides I think this guy needs medical attention.


Photograph by Francois Portmann
I go closer. He doesn't try to put distance between us. What do you think Francois? Not good. I agree not good.

Photograph by Francois Portmann
I try to call the Horvaths. No answer. We stare at Mr. Houston. It's really hot on this AstroTurf.
Okay, he's been standing here for hours and doesn't seem to be aiming to start moving any time soon. Poison? Concussion?

Some giant piece of earth moving equipment, which is horrendously noisy, trundles past Mr. Houston on the other side of the fence. No response. Okay, that's it. I make a decision. I'll take him home and put him in the dark in my second bathroom. Then at 1:00pm the rehabbers come into Animal General and I'll take him up there.

Photograph by Francois Portmann
Time for the gloves. Francois says, "Have you done this before?"

"What, pick up a Red-tail? No. But I've picked up lots of other things." I don't mention that many of them have been, dead, unconscious, or seedivores. Why worry him?"

You will notice that there is no photograph of Mr. Houston going into the carrier. Because once again the photographer became part of the action. The tiercel could spread his wings and run a few steps but that was it. Francois got the towel over him, and he just went flat, completely spent.

I held his feet as a precaution but he was so gone that when I slid him into the carrier, he just laid there.

We close him up and a construction worker on the other side of the fence, tells us that the tiercel had been there ever since he'd come in very early this morning. And then he told us the pair come every morning to a tree in the construction area and the guys watch them hunt squirrels. I ask, that if we put the fledglings in there would the guys keep an eye on them too and Gerome said, "Sure."

At least that's very good news. The parents when healthy will have no trouble finding their babies in the park as they come every day.

Francois and I turn from the fence to leave and I notice that there are two park rangers, one to the left end of the fence and one to the right end. And they're walking the fence line, closing in on us. Did someone report a downed hawk? At any rate, we're on our way.

Francois grabs us a cab and tiercel and I head for my apartment and the dark cooler bathroom.

Tiercel in the low light of the bathroom. He had his beak hooked on the bars. He looked so limp I wondered if he couldn't get his beak off. I went to see if it was uncomfortable by raising it to see if it was stuck. No. And my touching his beak did not raise a response. Not good. I take the one photo, close the door and allow him to unstress if possible.

In the meantime, I hear Indiana Jones again, and Bobby Horvath is on the phone. He's sorry he missed the call and he'll come in and get tiercel. Great, I say.

Then once again, it's Harrison Ford, this time it's Cathy Horvath. Change of plans take him to the Animal Medical Center. Oops that's pretty close to where I just came from compared to where I am. I get instructions.

10:33am After a rest in the darkened bathroom, Houston Tiercel is standing up again. This is a very good thing. Pancake hawks worry me.

Once again I get packed up to hit the streets of NYC. I set tiercel down for a moment by the door to get my hat. Chekhov, our Maine Coon cat walks past, catches a whiff of tiercel and goes from 0 to 100 in a quarter second...hair on end too. Later, even with the carrier empty the parrot flings himself and screams when he goes by. Wow. Wiring is a fascinating thing.

The Animal Medical Center is a trip in itself, the bulk of which tale is for another day. But as they brought the cat carrier back to me without the towel--remember the Harry Potter towel? I couldn't go home without Harry Potter. It turned out they were using Harry in the exam so I got some tidbits when the towel showed back up. No fractures and they were giving him fluids. Seemed like a good start. The Horvaths also requested x rays, and blood work including tests for anti-coagulant poison. Cathy called both Francois and I with the update and the blood test results should be in very soon, conceivably Wednesday.

As the formel at Houston had already been banded in the Horvath's care, as now have all three fledglings, Dad will go to the Horvaths for rehab, a short one we hope, for the first time that I know of in New York City, we will have a complete family of Red-tails that are banded from one of the urban nests.

Well, that was an interesting morning. I decide to go check on the Triborough nest family in Astoria Park.

But Francois has made it before me and taken this luscious photo of Hous, practicing his ballet moves on the bar instead of with it.

Also, by Francois, here comes Hous. Just look at that wingspan and nice positioning too.

I just miss Francois at Astoria Park, but I find Peter, one of the main local watchers, and we find Atlas watching over Hous. Look at that raised foot.

And we mustn't forget the clever zen Trib. His flying is starting to come along as well. He's just more subtle. Speaking of subtle I didn't even get a decent look at Athena today.

When I brought this photo up, it was very familiar. Sam walked by and said the same.
The face is really quite similar to the photo of--

Eldest of the Cathedral nest in 2006.

Donegal Browne