Peregrines in East London

I stand expectantly looking up to the sky, wondering how strange I look - a young black woman standing in the middle of towering and largely empty high-rise buildings on an estate in the heart of Newham, with binoculars, at 8.30 in the evening. Thank goodness for the summer as it's still bright. White clouds blanket the sky but the rain will not be coming down this evening. It is a strange sight for many reasons, but at this moment any awkwardness or uncomfortable feelings I have are put aside because I am hoping the bird I have just spotted perching on the tower block roof is in fact a peregrine falcon.

I don’t dare to believe it, could it have been that easy? A couple days before a friend told me they had overheard someone talking about peregrine falcons, (Falco peregrinus if you're fancy), nesting nearby to my home. He chased this person down to confirm he overheard correctly, and I imagine they shared the same excitement my friend and I did exchanging such news. But I didn’t think it would be this easy, surely? I returned my thoughts to the moment, watching this bird sit perfectly still for an age. And then it spread its wings and glided slowly to perch on another ledge. The feeling was instant. My eyes widened, my body shivered, and my heart quickened - it was a peregrine falcon. A real one. And then suddenly as though a cloak of invisibility had been removed, I noticed another, and another. At least four - a family of peregrines nesting at my back door.

The sensation is special for me: unbridled joy and excitement. It is the feeling of seeing someone you love for the first time in forever, a baby laughing with you, swooping along a rollercoaster, hugging your friends. All the things that make you feel alive and connected. And here was a piece of this, right here and now in the middle of an east London housing estate. Nature crashing into urban life.

I grin from ear to ear, jumping up and down as I watch them soar between the tall buildings. Craning my neck as they swoop over me, their flight beautiful: powerful, fast and playful, wing tips pointed as they swoop, and fanning as they come to a stop with grace and elegance. Giggling to myself, tears well up at this beautiful sight. I wipe them away and strain to see through my binoculars as they go high into the cloudy white sky, willing my eyes to catch every detail. The white of their under bellies flecked with brown, their small faces and powerful dark brown wings. Their call is harrowing, loud and piercing. I wonder how I didn't notice the distinct sound before. I look down at my phone to call and text everyone I know to come and see. No one is free but that’s okay. They know and they think it's special. I return my eyes to the sky; I could not pull myself away. An hour goes by and I don't want to leave but it's getting late. I tear myself away to walk towards home and as I do a pair come close enough to see with the naked eye. I gasp with pride as they swoop in front of me, as if to say goodbye, and it is affirming.

Peregrines were almost extinct in the UK but have bloomed now. Particularly in urban spaces they have adapted to become city dwellers, making the most of high-rise buildings that simulate the high cliff rocks they are known to inhabit. In the early 2000's there were only three pairs of peregrines in London, but their numbers have grown unexpectedly over the last 20 years. Although still vulnerable, London now has the second largest urban peregrine falcon population. And the London borough of Newham is now home to another pair.

It has been a running theme during the Covid-19 pandemic- nature reclaiming space and moving further into city life, unaware of the plights of humans. Those peregrines are unaware that the buildings that have given them such an impeccable nesting space for who knows how many breeding seasons, is only possible because they stand abandoned and neglected. They do not know the irony of finding shelter in a borough with one of the highest rates of homelessness in the country. They are not impacted by the high rates of unemployment, substance abuse, gentrification and growing inequalities. They will never know that the hunting ground that has enabled their fledglings to grow strong and powerful, is the same place of high levels of deprivation and poverty. They do not feel the depression and anxiety that plagues me now and has for almost two years. Nor the joy and grief I feel that those empty tower blocks have been reclaimed by such beautiful creatures. The joy and the exhilaration of spotting so many fantastic species in the midst of the concrete jungle I call home. 

Sam Awuah - a young black activist and birdwatcher. Photo by Nick Croft