At Queen and Bathurst there was still an acrid smell in the chill air from a devastating fire last week that destroyed an older commercial block with several stores and as many as 50 apartments. Looked like a war zone. A big mechanical claw was hauling rubble out and dumping it in the road. Hot spots were being found 36 hours after the fire was out and there’s still a pumper on standby connected to a hydrant right now. Streetcar service is disrupted. No late charges at Suspect Video, I guess. On the downside, no slice of Gianni Ola and a Barq’s at Pizzaiolo either.
The media keeps blithering about Duke’s Cycle and how it was there for 100 years. Bleh! Another mediocre bike store is no loss, this city is full of them. I’m more concerned that several dozen working people have been put out of their homes. Queen Westers may have piercings and blue hair but many are young and not that well placed to suddenly lose everything. Kudos to those who are organizing relief by collecting clothes and personal supplies. Many businesses not burned have been affected, too. It’s all quite a sight and it helped me place the recent loss of my beloved Jaguar in perspective. Things don’t matter as much as people and pets.
The street was jammed with pedestrians taking pictures with phones and cameras of all kinds. We didn’t like the gawking crowds at the temporary fencing on the north side of Queen. Ultimately, crowds make us a little nervous so on we went, thinking away about work, friends, Betty Page, 1966 Dodge Darts, the battle of Stalingrad, how to survive a mass zombie swarm attack, stuff, you know, just the usual idle POWcityblog thoughts.
Only minutes later we waded into a second much smaller gathering near the ATMs further east. This smaller tableau was the more privileged if you ask me. A rare, wonderful, profound moment was unfolding. A wafting of bluish feathers came by and then another wafting followed down like fluffy greyish snow flakes around a knot of people looking up, smiling.
What was taking place? More people were stopping to participate in the clump of awestruck gawkers just as I craned around and saw what they saw.
Holy cool! Up at the top corner of the building a red tailed hawk was plucking a freshly killed pigeon. ‘Oh boy, that’s something,’ I thought. Another cloud of feathers lofted and started settling to the sidewalk. The red tail looked so fierce and proud, she was ...awesome. I mean that in both the biblical sense and in the sense that excited teenagers use the word. A big SUV stopped and the occupants craned up to see the hawk, too. A taxi stopped behind them, more camera phones, everyone was smiling. Nature red in tooth and claw! The red tail had her talons planted square on the pigeon and she alternated between eyeballing the crowd with that ‘make my day’ coolness predatory birds are, like, totally born to wield and her defeathering job.
I spent a couple minutes enthralled by the authenticity of the moment.
Just as I turned away to resume my stroll I caught sight of a smaller bird whipping around in a turn over the knot of people. A falcon! It made its distinctive cry and was out of sight in a flash. Smaller and faster than a red tail the peregrines are awesome with their swept back wings and narrow rectangular tails. This one spied the predatory bird action and was checking it out. How cool is that? Even seeing three miniskirts the same day was nothing compared to predatory birds at large and in action right in the middle of Canada’s largest city. We sure got a lift out of the birds. It was enough to give a guy hope.
Next stop was a bookshop wherein we were served by a clerk wearing a monocle.
editor's note: this post reminds us of the total awesomeness of NYC's Pale Male
No comments:
Post a Comment