First, across the street from my office stood a condemned building where a magnificent Cooper’s Hawk had made its nest. Almost daily, I would watch him perched high on the roof ledge, keeping a lookout for prey. Then, one day, workers arrived and began demolishing the old dilapidated building, and I never saw my avian friend again. That is, until the other day when I took a lunch break with my coworkers and found him dead on the sidewalk. Upset by the loss, my colleagues were completely indifferent.
They were equally uninterested when I told them about a raven I spotted. One of the largest I had ever seen in the city, I watched the wind-borne spook carry a rat to the top of an old utility pole and rend its catch to pieces.
Again, the story elicited no response—they couldn’t care less.
This got me thinking (again) about how different my interests are from your garden variety “normie.” This must be the way they feel every time we gather around the water cooler and my eyes glaze over when they talk to me about celebrity gossip, American sportsball, or the “latest thing.”
Heaven knows what kind of architectural monstrosity the developers will erect on the vacant lot. It's safe to assume that prime real estate in Lower Manhattan won't be "wasted" on green spaces and improving the quality of life. I'm guessing it will be another street-level low-end boutique or trendy fast-food eatery with overpriced condominiums above. Whatever they build there, the one thing we know for certain is that New York City is for the birds.
