It started with a brazen act in the heart of Manhattan.
After dusk on a freezing night, someone tore open the cage that housed a eagle owl named Flaco at the Central Park Zoo.
Flaco was eventually found several blocks away on Fifth Avenue. No one knew where this bird with fiery orange eyes came from, but soon he made his way to a tree by the Pulitzer Fountain outside the Plaza Hotel. A tourist with wings.
Call it an escape, a release, a departure, a crime. Flaco is now free. Will he be able to defend himself after being locked up for the rest of his life?
One year later, the answer is definitely yes. Although he spends most of his time in Central Park, he roams all over Manhattan, peering into apartment windows with his striking eyes.
Flaco has garnered attention in New York and beyond as an underdog and comforting figure in difficult times. Birders and fans follow him in person and his exploits online. But how did he experience New York? What did the city look, feel, and sound like from his bird's-eye view?
'I was surprised'
Late on February 2, 2023, Edmund Berry was on his way home from the Upper West Side when he saw a photo on Twitter of an owl perched on the sidewalk. An avid bird watcher, he got off the subway at Columbus Circle and headed east to his Fifth Avenue location near 60th Street, ready to help.
At first he did not recognize Flaco, whom he knew from when he went to the zoo with his daughter to see penguins. Mr. Berry always thought that Flaco's life seemed lonely and sad, and he always stopped and looked at it.
That night, Flaco was seen next to a small pet carrier, bathed in flashing red lights as police watched. As they dropped a large aircraft carrier nearby, Flaco spread his wings and flew away toward the plaza.
He was hatched in captivity at a North Carolina bird park on March 15, 2010, and arrived at the Central Park Zoo soon after. The Wildlife Conservation Society, which runs the zoo, said in a news release that Flaco “has adapted very well to his new home” in a short period of time.
He was far from his original home. The Eurasian eagle owl, known by its scientific name Bubo bubo, is an apex predator commonly found in continental Europe, Scandinavia, Russia, and most of central Asia. One of the world's largest owls, with a wingspan of up to 6 feet, it lives in rocky areas near mountains and forests, swooping down at night to hunt rodents, rabbits, and other prey. However, they are also known to hang out in cities, where terraces, windowsills, and rooftops resemble the cliff ledges to which they are accustomed.
Now, Flaco appears lost on the streets of Manhattan. Carla Bloom, executive director of the International Owl Center in Houston, Minnesota, said photos from the first night and the next day showed the owl looked “startled” and “terrified.”
But over the next few weeks, as he settled into the park and escaped the zoo's recovery efforts, Bloom noticed a change in his photos.
“His ear tufts are down,” she said. “He's puffed up more. He was definitely getting used to his environment.”
Hunting
For a while, zoo staff tried to lure Flaco in with traps baited with dead rats, but Flaco remained unperturbed. He learned to hunt his own food instead. The evidence was a chunk of undigested rat fur and bone that he vomited up one day.
He was lucky. In the words of James Eyring, a falconer and former Pace University environmental science professor, Central Park was a “target-rich environment.”
“When they see that movement, that jerky movement of a rodent, it's like walking past a McDonald's arch,” Eyring said.
Flaco is established in the North Woods and around lakes, hunting nearby compost piles and construction sites, and Internet photos of him hang in his trailer.
It was an efficient life, said birder and photographer David Ray, who has been closely watching him.
“He slept in the compost heap, woke up and jumped over several trees to his favorite perch and then went hunting for mice,” Ray said.
However, around Halloween, Flaco left Central Park. Perhaps it was part of seasonal wandering, or a biological urge to reproduce, an urge he could not satisfy.
There are no female eagle owls in New York, so there are no potential mates for Flaco. Some have suggested that Flaco may have married Geraldine, a closely related female eagle owl that lived in the park around the time. Experts say it's not impossible, but not desirable, and she hasn't been seen in the park for some time.
Bird Romeo and Juliet.
Dr. Ruth Westheimer, a sex therapist who was recently appointed New York's Loneliness Ambassador, lamented Flaco's fate. “Flaco's options are limited by Mother Nature,” she said in her email, “yet he does not give up and flies all over New York to find his mate.”
From the rooftops and water towers of the Upper West Side they could be heard shouting, sometimes for hours into the darkness after midnight, to establish territory and perhaps court mates. Maybe he could just be my friend.
“I respect Flaco because he had big dreams, believed in himself and followed his heart,” Big Bird, a longtime Manhattan resident, said in an email. “Flaco, if you've ever read this, please fly to Sesame Street. My nest is your nest!”
Head to downtown
Great eagle owls are not migratory birds, but can usually cover considerable distances in a series of short flights. And for a species that soars up to 10,000 feet, life within the Manhattan skyline is not at all difficult.
Flaco, who explores the city from above, has a lot of friends and a lot to see. Charles Semowich, who plays the carillon inside the Riverside Church's 392-foot tower, said he occasionally hears screeching outside his window. Apparently, an eagle lives somewhere in the tower.
Local residents 40 and 361 union ironworkers Jason Chady and Conrad Lazar encountered the peregrine falcons and hawks that make up the city's skyline. Chady said the sky above was peaceful and beautiful, just the city lights, the breeze and his own thoughts. Lazar called it a “safe space” away from everything below.
Streets pose a serious threat to Flaco with all the cars and trucks. Gladys, a female Eurasian eagle owl who escaped from a Minnesota zoo in 2022, died several weeks later after apparently being hit by a car.
On Nov. 14, Flaco found a safe spot outside Nan Knighton's apartment on Fifth Avenue, propped himself up against the window and peered inside.
Mr. Knighton was completely fascinated. She hadn't heard of Flaco. She was worried that he was in pain, so she called everywhere to see if someone could come get him, but to no avail.
“I think he's at a point now where this city is his territory,” she said. “And he's confident, curious, and having fun.”
Dutch owl researcher Marjon Savelsberg said the wild Eurasian eagle owls she studies would not behave in the same way. “They stay as far away from humans as possible,” she said.
There are exceptions, she noted, including extreme cases involving domestically bred males that are more closely related to humans than owls. If released, they may try to mate with humans.
“They land on people's heads,” Savelsberg said. “That doesn't happen very often. There was one incident a few years ago.”
“A matter of time”
Since November, Flaco has largely stayed away from parks and public view, wandering from the West 70s to the West 90s, from Central Park West to West End Avenue. Birdwatchers like David Barrett, who runs the Manhattan Bird Alert account on the social media site X, are monitoring his every move.
During the day, Flaco camps out in the courtyard of his apartment building, sleeping secluded in a warm, wind-free place. Although his survival was impressive, his future is not guaranteed. As he roams around, rat poison is probably the biggest threat. It's safest to eat there, as there are poison regulations in the park.
“Frankly, I think the whole situation is unfortunate,” said Scott Weidenthal, author of Peterson's Owl Reference Book. “It's really just a matter of time before something bad happens.” he added.
D. Bruce Yolton agrees, but would be happy to be proven wrong.
Yolton, a birdwatcher and blogger, has been following Flaco ever since he saw it one night when he was out. He believes Flaco has not been treated well by many people, including those who downplay his release or ignore the danger he faces.
Eagle owls live on average about 20 years in the wild. Their lifespan in captivity can be more than double that. Yolton hopes Flaco will retire to a spacious sanctuary.
Those who initially let him escape remain at large. Police said they are continuing to investigate.
This week, Flaco's former enclosure was emptied. There are no plans to reuse it. Although he is no longer on the zoo's list of animals, there is still an image of an owl on the map outside the zoo marking where Flaco once lived.
The conservancy said in a statement that it has been monitoring Flaco and appreciates the public's concern for his health. “As previously mentioned, we stand ready to resume recovery efforts if he shows any signs of difficulty or distress,” the statement said.
Mary Aaron thought she might have seen signs of distress around midnight on January 11th. She was at her home in a 20th-floor apartment on Central Park West near 97th Street when she heard boos from her balcony.
She called police at the 24th Precinct and said she thought the owl might need help.
“Is that the famous big flying owl?'' said one official.
Aaron said two police officers arrived soon after and shone a flashlight into the owl's eyes to scare it away.
Police confirmed officers responded to a call about an owl at Aaron's address. I didn't know if it was Flaco or not. (Owls don't have IDs.)
There was one crucial detail. The owl in question “had a large wingspan.”
