Barry is a she, and she was an owl, recently deceased from a collision with a maintenance vehicle, but her passing was noted with a full page obituary in The New York Times. Barry arrived in Central Park and immediately commanded an entourage of admirers eager to be outside despite the pandemic. She had a favorite tree, and when she headed out to hunt in the evening, she would perch from porch to porch waiting for her entourage of humans to keep up. The admirers all came to know each other and kept up with Barry both in person and on devices. Someone compared her face to s cinnamon bun, and everyone responded to her direct eye contact and obvious enjoyment of human admirers. Barry is dead; long live Barry.