3/21, Dinner for Two

Weather forecast doesn't look good, so this may be the last hawkwatching report until Sunday.

The skies had started to cloud over before I reached Morningside Drive around 6:10 and the breeze was picking up. Looked to be a chilly session.

Checking the Cathedral nest, there didn't seem to be anyone resident. Periodically checked over the next 15 minutes from the 112th St. overlook, ditto. Just past 6:20 I thought that I caught a glimpse of Isolde's head poking above the edge of the nest, and so I spent the next half hour thinking she's probably up there. But no, later review of photos indicates it was just a combination of two bent nest twigs and my imagination.

In any event, time to go down into the park and up toward 116th St. It's gloomy, so maybe Tristan has already headed for the alleged roosting site. No sign of him, but Hedda Gobbler is on the path in that area. We cautiously give each other 10-15 feet of clearance.

A squirrel comes by to see what's up.

Head back toward the pond. Check out the mallards and the geese. Yawn.

Just before 6:45, there's some shrieking up around the Cathedral or just to the south. Could just be gulls, but it could also be hawks having sex in the treetops.

A hawk, yes, but just one. Tristan appears and circles about.

For a moment it looks like he's about to fly into the nest, but he banks north and lands on the corner of the roof at St. Luke's.

I finally make it up there a couple minutes later and find that he's alternating between pecking away at his meal and scanning the skies.

Doesn't seem like he's looking over toward the nest, though.

A couple minutes later he takes off to the northeast.

He's still got dinner in claw. This pic and, indeed, the first one I took of him reveal a plump mammalian body and a skinny tail. Looks like Tristan has reduced the rat population of New York by one.

In any event, he dives into the trees just inside the upper 114th St. entrance of the park. As I hie my way over there, there's more shrieking in the treetops; Isolde must be in there with him. But no, by the time I spot Tristan, perched 40 feet straight up from the entrance to the dog run, he's all alone and he's looking around like he has no idea where his mate might be.

He shrieks some more. But still no sign of Isolde.

Some more shrieks. Ditto.

"Well, the heck with her. If she can't come while the take-out delivery is fresh, she'll have to go hungry."

Tristan feeds until close to 7:00, then flaps over to a nearby branch. Moments later, Isolde flies up, apparently coming up Morningside Drive, and settles in near-by. Some communication must go on, because she quickly shifts branches to where, ah-ha, the rest of the rat lies.

As I'm heading back up the steps to the park entrance, Tristan quietly disappears. Isolde digs in. Occasionally she comes up for air and looks around.

Man, that must be some rat. Come 7:15 and Isolde is still tugging for morsels.

Light's about shot. I'd be surprised if any of my last dozen pix come out. Sunset was ten minutes ago. Etc. At 7:20 I make my exit, Isolde still snacking away above the dog run and Tristan off wherever he went.