The Tale of Pale Male by Jeanette Winter

If you look hard out in the world, you might see the nest of a Red-tailed Hawk high up on a cliff, or high up in a tall tree, or, if there are no trees, at the very top of a tall cactus.

    Hawks like a tall perch so they can see what is happening down below. Nothing escapes the eye of a Redtail, not even a tiny hurrying, scurrying mouse.

    This Redtail has just caught a mouse in the countryside below.

    But look—there are skyscrapers all around.
    And what building is the Redtail headed for? It's the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
    The Metropolitan Museum is in Central Park.
    And Central Park is in New York City.
    This Redtail is a city slicker!

    A lady hawk waits for the Redtail.
    He offers her his gift.
    She takes it.
    And eats it.

    She would rather have a mouse to eat than anything else.
    The hawks become mates, and soar high into the sky.

    The two Redtails break twigs, just the right length, to build a nest.

    They bring each twig to a window top guarded by angels— back and forth, back and forth, over and over— until the nest is built.
    Spikes for keeping pigeons away hold the twigs secure.

    Below on the ground, bird-watchers have spotted the two hawks that they had named Pale Male and Lola.
    Look!
    They're nesting again at their penthouse on Fifth Avenue.

    Lola settles into their home, as Pale Male flies back and forth, back and forth, bringing provisions to the mother-to-be.

    Evidence of Lola's meals falls to the balcony below.
    The people living there are
not
happy about it!

    As spring blossoms appear on the trees, Pale Male and Lola perch on the edge of their nest— moving up and down, up and down, dropping food in.
    Are baby chicks hidden there?

    Yes!
    At last the chicks peek out—all downy soft like dandelions.
    And below, the watchers cheer.

    Mama and Papa stay busy—back and forth, back and forth—bringing food for their two hungry chicks.

    When the blossoms give way to leaves, the fledglings—fuzzy chicks no more—practice using their wings.
    Flit flap, flit flap, flit flap—they want to fly!

    At last the fledglings are ready. They perch on the edge of the nest for a long, long time.
    And then—flit flap, flit flap—they lift off into the air. Will they fall?

    No!
    The fledglings land safely on nearby buildings.
    Happy watchers applaud.

    The young birds fly from ledge to ledge— the buildings like trees, the ledges like branches.
    Pale Male shows them how to flap and glide.

    Soon the fledglings fly over the traffic on Fifth Avenue to Central Park.
    Mama and Papa teach their young birds to hunt.
    Mice and rats are tastiest, but a plump pigeon will do nicely.

    The Redtails hunt, glide, soar, and dive all day, and then at twilight return to their home on high.
    By now the hawk family is famous.

    But not everyone loves the hawks. On a cold, rainy day in December—when no one is watching— the apartment people install a window-washer platform near the empty winter nest.

    Workers stuff all four hundred pounds of the carefully gathered sticks, twigs, and bits of bark into big plastic bags— even the pigeon spikes that supported the nest.
    The apartment people are happy.
    No more falling bones. No more mess!

    By morning everyone knows what happened. Newspapers, TV, and radio all tell the story of the stolen nest on Fifth Avenue.

    The next day watchers gather at the building.
    Each day more bird lovers come, until the crowd grows to hundreds.

    The apartment people are in a huff about the crowds.
    So finally they meet with the watchers to discuss the situation.

    Ah, victory!
    The watchers convince the apartment people to let the hawks build a new nest.
    A cheer goes up when the spikes are replaced.

    The fledglings have grown up and gone, but Pale Male and Lola begin gathering twigs for their new nest—back and forth, back and forth...

    because even for Red-tailed Hawks living atop a tall building, high above the traffic and crowds of