birdspot

There are some things that make me happy on a cold winter day. One of those things is to stand at the edge of a body of water and endure blistering wind chills while squinting through a brand-new pair of tiny, expensive optics designed to fit comfortably into a pocket. NEW 10 POWER ZEISS BINS! Bins means binoculars, in case you are of the reasonable portion of the population who would never say such a thing. Who cares if you can’t feel your face and people on the running track around the Jacqueline Onassis Reservoir are looking at you strangely? I thought at first that they looked at me because I am bird-watching, but of course this is Central Park and there is nothing odd enough about that to attract attention. I then realized it was probably my hat. Such a hat is obtained only via ill-informed Christmas giving, and until recently only worn during outdoors excursions in Maine. Occasionally I will see someone with something similar, but only as of last winter, when the hipsters in Williamsburg must have decided that it was just ridiculous enough to be cool again. I don’t see too many in Manhattan. But it’s the only one I have out of storage so far.

This is, above all else, the city of the gaze. I’m usually watching the pigeons. While waiting for the subway trains I look for rats. They don’t bother me at all; I find them fascinating, but then again I don’t have to live with them. At least so far; now I have probably jinxed myself.

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