Before my last visit to London, a coworker and friend who’s lived in London for some time around 10 years, upon learning of my impending visit, declared that “there are no bugs.” Having been bitten, bled, stung, and worst of all crawled across by ants, mosquitoes, scorpions, and cock roaches, respectively, i have to say i was a bit skeptical. We were at a Thai restaurant close to the Austin office, and maybe some Panang Curry dribbled out of my mouth as it fell open, so D. added, “Well, there’s the odd fly that comes through, and every once in awhile a bumblebee, but really no bugs to speak of. People don’t even have screens on the windows.”
Perhaps i closed my mouth, and i nodded. Unsure of whether this was some elaborate ruse Londoners play upon innocent country yokels, i declined to challenge the impossibility of such a claim. “No bugs,” i thought to myself. “We’ll see about that!”
But there aren’t. Well, to the extent that D. indicated, there really aren’t. There’s the odd fly that comes through the flat or office’s unscreened windows, and i’ve seen a bumblebee or two in a park. But there really aren’t any screens on the windows. The last time i remember being bitten by an insect was three days before i left Austin. It’s really quite pleasant, not swatting myself every few minutes.
However, over the past week or two, i’ve become more and more concerned about an apparent universal lack of life forms, excepting the house monkey, of course. (Of those there are a plenty.) But definitely not as many and a less diverse selection of birds as i’m used to seeing — and far fewer cats and dogs. On the way to work today, i saw a woman walking an Afghan, and i think i even took a step or two towards them to throw my arms around the poor beast to tell it how much i loved large shaggy dogs, and that i thought i might never see another in my life. But i stopped myself, remembering just how annoying that was when i was walking my large shaggy dog in a city full of dogs, and people would stop (often) and remark upon how unusual it was. So i can only imagine this woman’s lot in life, leading around a huge, walking carpet, in a city of (mostly hairless) chimpanzees.
So you can imagine my surprise tonight, just after dinner, when M. points out that there are some birds of prey flying by, outside. I look out, over the tops of various buildings toward Parliament and Big Ben, and i see several, unmistakeable silhouettes. Three of them, in fact. This is familiar to me, because in Austin, there were some Peregrines that sometimes lived around the high-rise building i worked in, and i was too often distracted by their aerial courtships and hunting. I even brought in some binoculars.
We’re looking West, into the twilight, so it’s really difficult to see their colors. M suggested they might be Kestrels, which i think is a good guess. At first it seems like two of them are courting, but then it’s more like two are a pair, and the third is an intruder. Or maybe a young ‘un reluctant to shove off and make his or her own way in the world.
We took a some pictures… i tried taking some through one side of the binocs, but they did not turn out so well. M. managed to capture all three in a frame.
Looking at these, now, i realize what it feels like to be a photographer of Sasquatch, or the Loch Ness Monster. I feel like saying, “You see! You SEE! There is interesting and unusual natural wildlife in DOWNTOWN LONDON! No, really! I wouldn’t make this up! What? That odd white circle? That’s the flash on the monocle…. Oh come on! Obviously that’s a Kestrel, or maybe a Merlin… just squint and bit, and look at it this way, holding the laptop upside down.”
Regardless of what anyone else thinks, i’m just glad i had someone who also is interested in wildlife (birds) to share the experience with.
There was also this interesting cross in the sky made by contrails. (Or chemtrails, if that suits your fancy.)
