Finding and losing Flaco, the owl that broke free

Last February, a Eurasian eagle-owl named Flaco escaped from a (ridiculously small) enclosure in Central Park. It seems that the owl escaped through a hole in the fence. He was not good at flying then. He reached the sidewalk outside Bergdorf Goodman on Fifth Avenue, where he was escorted by the New York Police. He flew away, though not very far.

Flacco’s captors were waiting to take him back. By captors, I mean the staff at the Central Park Zoo, who had cared for Flaco since he was a baby owl.

I rooted against them. I wanted Flacco free.

Many smart essays were written about why Flacco would live longer in his cage. They were not pleased with his independence from me or anyone else. Nor, apparently, with Flacco, who just kept flying. And fly far.

On the night of February 23, Flacco flew into the window of a building on the Upper West Side. A beloved neighborhood organization, the Wild Bird Fund, tried to save it but could not. Windows are windows, friends. They are notorious bird killers.

I still remember the first day my sister and I met Flaco. It was not that difficult. You just walked north along the Central Park Loch – that’s where you were when you saw a group of people with cameras. I discovered that if we moved to the other side of the lake, we would have Flaco closer to us and be able to see him more clearly. I have never felt more useful than when I helped people who were searching for Him. When my sister showed it to me I couldn’t see it. The people I showed it to were thrilled.

Seeing Flacco, at least at the time, produced an instant effect of dopamine. It energized you and chased away your sadness.

I took several others, including my daughter and son-in-law, to search for him. This may be difficult. During his most elusive phase, we had almost lost hope of seeing him again. So I turned to Flaco Twitter – a community of Twitter users who regularly post information about Flaco sightings – and, with their help, found him. At East Drive and 104th.

That’s the last place I saw him.

In fact, that’s where Flacco’s memorial will be held on Saturday. And that’s where you’ll find me.

It’s hard to write about Flacco because I know we’ve anthropomorphized him. The zoo and its supporters still say that if no one had let him out, they could have kept him alive for another 20 years.

I don’t know that person’s intentions. I’m not sure it was because of the impulse to free him, to see him survive 20 years out. But I have no reason to believe it was negative. That’s what we got: a year of Flaco in the wild, among the trenches and channels of the Upper West Side’s urban landscape. And, finally, our windows.

As he landed everywhere from apartment building rooftops to water towers to fire escapes, I just wanted him to return to Central Park. I considered it safer for him—probably because I felt safe there. launch! This is not the worst human quality.

Since the pandemic, a surprising number of people have become bird observers and migration experts, flocking to parks with fancy binoculars and expensive cameras. Although I don’t blame the person whose window flew the flak, it’s clear that we need to make bird-safe glass an essential part of New York architecture. Let us all become supporters of making our buildings and windows compatible with these birds that bring us so much joy.

There may never be another Flako, but there will be other wonderful birds that we love. We can take better care of them.