Last time I had seen a bird flying at the speed of the wind was in Montauk. It was 1993 and we had just booked a room in a place called Atlantic Motel. It was a rainy, cold and very windy night. Our room on the ground floor faced the now covered pool. The pool area was illuminated by a single spot. It was in this spot that we saw the seagull. It was flying at exactly the speed of the wind. For the outside observer it seemed to be suspended in mid air, yet moving the wings as if flying at full speed. It was a very beautiful moment. It lasted for quite a while. I do not really know why the bird did that. It flew there in place for minutes, before turning its head and disappearing into the night.
Yesterday was a more common encounter maybe, but equally stunning. It was over Fort Washington, the park on the way to the cloisters above 190th street here in Manhattan. It is a place that still has some of the magic that must have made the island before it was cut into blocks an unbelievably beautiful piece of nature. The cliffs are huge and exposed there, they still sweat water through tiny cracks, days after a rain. The Hudson River and New Jersey on the other side somehow frame the experience of trees and rocks and secret paths. It was above an overpass that crosses a rock canyon where the hawk was suspended. She balanced her speed so incredibly well that she appeared completely motionless. She turned invisible to those who only detect movements. She was a soft shadow painted into the sky. Her wings sly transparent in places, almost sky color at their tips. shining through them. There were such subtle variations in color. All clearly visible now. She did not even move her head, no feather was without control. She must have been praying on something near the water, maybe 7 floors below us because she seemed to be so incredibly close. I think she must have been there for at least 5 minutes. The conclusion of the moment came very slowly. It was the other hawk that effortlessly glid into the picture. He moved in also barely moving, sideways, from behind the trees. He was also gliding on the west wind. He did not stop though, not as she did, he stayed in constant, subtle movement. They were familiar to each other. They looked so very similar yet the differences between them were also clearly visible to the observer. They soon both moved together towards the cliffs to the north. Towards the George Washington Bridge, again packed with two levels of 12 lane traffic.
