You might just make it after all.

Way back in September of '08, we got a notice from our building manager that there would be some work done on the building the following day, cleaning the facade, and to please close our windows to prevent dust and debris from entering our "renovated" apartments. Even though it was 106 degrees with 99 percent humidity, and even though we are stubbornly anti air-conditioning, I shut the windows. Nothing happened except that our blond son was super red and sweaty for most of the day. A few days later, a scaffolding went up. Then something that resembles a window washing apparatus was installed. I have not seen a workman since.

Until today. Ropes are swinging, things are moving and the pigeon and I are NOT happy about it. My mind is working overtime conjuring up terrible scenarios that involve brash workmen cruelly tossing the nest, eggs and momma bird and poppa bird and all, into the middle of 49th St. I have started composing overly emotional letters to the construction company, the building manager, Governor Patterson, Betty White. I feel momentarily hopeless and then I remember Pale Male.

The story of Pale Male is the story of a young bird and his young bride who set up a little home on a little ledge and tried to start a little family. After siring perhaps a dozen tiny tinies, his nest was removed. Outrage ensued. Mary Tyler Moore got involved. There was a documentary or twelve made about the bird. The nest was replaced and all were happy again. See? Everything's going to work out. Except that Pale Male is a stately red tail hawk who set up shop on a 5th Avenue ledge with spectacular views of the park and a board chock full of animal rights celebrities. My bird has not so much going for her.

Well, as any mother out there would agree, I'm going to have to do what I can to protect the young. And it looks like I'm going to have to do it right now, because there are two workmen outside my window, dangerously close to my little nest.

I'm back. Here's how it went: I scurried to the window, knocked on it and yelled at the man standing on the other side:

Me: Hi. Excuse me, sir, I just have a quick question for you. You see, this is going to sound funny, but there's a bird in the A/C slip under this window and it's made a little nest, see, and I just want you guys to be aware of it, the little bird and the nest, with the eggs, under that window, and I'm not sure what kind of work you are planning on doing, but if you could just promise me that you'll be conscientious of the bird's nest and try to work around it. I would really appreciate that.

Workman #1: Eh?

Fuck. I can only come up with the Spanish words for pigeon and egg. I fear this will not be good enough to fully convey what must be conveyed. I scurry to the other window. There is a man standing there who appears to be an English-is-my-first-language kind of guy.

Me: Hi. So, see, right below this window is an open A/C slip and there's a bird in there and she's nested. There are two eggs in the nest.

Workman #2: You want us to get it out of there?

Me: (panicked) No!! No no!! I want you to just leave her be!! Please. If you could just be considerate and work around her, I would really appreciate it. I've grown sort of...attached.

At this point I look down in the direction of the little bird and her fledgling brood, in some sort of attempt to forge a bond between the workman and the nest, only to notice that I am wearing a T-Shirt with two little birds silkscreened on the front. I am now the crazy bird lady on the fifth floor. I look back up at the guy and sort of shrug.

Me: Please?

Workman #2: Yeah. It should be no problem.

I believe him because I have no other choice. If worse comes to worse, does anyone have Mary Tyler Moore's number?