Flaco and birders made beautiful music together
There was a group of us, ranging from six to a dozen who would follow Flaco for hours after flyout at night. We were respectful. My friend Anke would say, “Don’t get too close, he’s going to come down for a rat,“and I would dutifully make sure that I followed her instructions. I always stayed a couple steps behind her.
Anke taught me when filming at night to focus the camera manually and continually monitor your shots for the correct exposure.
Some were armed with night vision binoculars, and through a series of text messages would notify each other of Flaco’s every move. Others did it with their bare eyes and normal binoculars, and didn’t even own a camera. The sport of it to them was to be able to sight and follow Flaco during his night travels.
When we entered the East Side Drive from 104th St. and headed north to follow Flaco to the construction site where he liked to hunt and feed, we would use red blinker lights on our backpacks or wheeled bags as the racing cyclists had come out on the drive in Central Park.
We were all looking for the “perfect” shot that can never be achieved in photography, just as the perfect take can never be achieved in music. But that was the excitement about it, we would go out the next day/night and try again to do a little better.
About a year ago, vandals cut the wire that was keeping Flaco in his Central Park Zoo enclosure, approximately the size of a city bus. We were enthralled by the first photographs and video of Flaco on Fifth Ave. as police officers stood guard with a plastic pet cage nearby, hoping that Flaco would walk into it.
But Flaco, unsure of his future as he was, was too cagey to fall for that. At that point, Flaco could barely fly two blocks without aborting his flight. He had been in a small cage so long he hadn’t developed the muscle power for extended travel.
After a few unsuccessful attempts by the Central Park Zoo to capture Flaco, and people filming him devouring a rat and releasing pellets of the undigested mammal, they decided to allow him to roam free.
Flaco for a while even exited the park and managed to visit the Lower East Side of Manhattan and delight people by Manhattan’s Upper West Side courtyards by peeping into their windows.
Eventually, Flaco gained international celebrity status.
People from all over the world were coming to visit him. And what was not to like. Owls are normally reclusive beings, flying out at night to hunt, and returning early in the day to hide. Fla- co, unlike many other owls, was much easier to sight, and was a glory to behold. The Eurasian eagle-owl is the second largest owl in the world and has a wingspan of more than six feet and Flaco displayed his plumage majestically for all to see.
I was surprised one day as I wheeled my cameras and tripod to the Central Park tennis courts when someone asked me, “Aren’t you Richie Vitale.” I replied “yes” and they said they knew me from my bird pictures. And I’m thinking, “You know, I worked with Frank Sinatra for five years and played trumpet all my life,” but I’ll take it anyway I can get it.
I was actually very happy that someone had noticed my pictures on Twitter (I don’t like calling it X because it sounds like a porn site), and that my one year of birding had made any sort of an impact on others in our field.
Being a jazz musician doesn’t hurt owling in any way as the best time is before flyout at night (much more my hours) when the owl is preening and scratching, and then the delightful moment when it takes off.
I often stop to talk to other birders. One of the best ways to find a bird is to look for people holding binoculars or cameras. Birders are an odd bunch, but for the most part gregarious and helpful. I met one lady who had been immobilized in bed for eight months, but had regained her mobility simply because she wanted to photograph Flaco.
Flaco has inspired the people of New York and beyond as a true success story. A creature that had learned to survive and thrive in our bustling city.
We all suspected that an untimely death could come to Flaco, but none of us expected it so soon. RIP, our dear feathered friend.
Vitale is a NYC trumpeter/composer turned avid birder.
Flaco has inspired the people of New York and beyond as a true success story.