The skies of London have been taken over by bright green parakeets. Where did they come from? Why are they here?
In The Parakeeting of London, writer Nick Hunt and photographer Tim Mitchell – self-declared gonzo ornithologists – track the progress of the parakeets from park to cemetery to riverbank, meeting Londoners from all walks of life who share their thoughts, opinions and theories on these incongruous avian invaders. Did Jimi Hendrix release them in 1968? Did they escape from a set during the filming of The African Queen? Are they anything to do with climate change? And, most importantly, are they here to stay?
Nick Hunt has walked and written across much of Europe. His first book 'Walking the Woods and the Water' (Nicholas Brealey, 2014) was a finalist for the Stanford Dolman Travel Book of the Year. He also works as a contributor and editor for the Dark Mountain Project.
(3.5) Rose-ringed parakeets were first recorded in London in the 1890s, but only in the last couple of decades have they started to seem ubiquitous. I remember seeing them clustered in treetops and flying overhead in various Surrey, Kent and Berkshire suburbs we’ve lived in. They’re even more noticeable in London’s parks and cemeteries. “When did they become as established as beards and artisan coffee?” Nick Hunt wonders about his home in Hackney. He and photographer Tim Mitchell set out to canvass public opinion about London’s parakeets and look into conspiracy theories about how they escaped (Henry VIII and Jimi Hendrix are rumored to have released them; the set of The African Queen is another purported origin) and became so successful an invasive species. A surprising cross section of the population is aware of the birds, and opinionated about them. Language of “immigrants” versus “natives” comes up frequently in the interviews, providing an uncomfortable parallel to xenophobic reactions towards human movement – “people had a tendency to conflate the avian with the human, turning the ornithological into the political. Invading, colonizing, taking over.” This is a pleasant little book any Londoner or British birdwatcher would appreciate.
Since I’ve just visited several parks and gardens in London (and of course not only heard the tinny chatter of the parakeets, but also spotted quite a few of them), this little book in the Kew Gardens gift shop was just the thing. Entertaining and, at times, as vividly colorful in words as the birds themselves, I found it to be a delightful holiday read.
If you live in or have visited London, you’ve probably seen or heard its parakeets. Originally from the Himalayan foothills of south Asia or the steaming equatorial jungles of central Africa, rose-ringed parakeets, Psittacula krameri, also known as ring-necked parakeets, are now resident in the greater London area, roosting in huge flocks that have spilled over into much of southeastern England, where they are now widely established.
How these lime-green parrots managed to get to London has, of course, been the subject of plenty of debate, and has inspired a variety of origin myths. Did Jimi Hendrix release a pair on Carnaby Street? Did they escape from the set of The African Queen in 1951? Or should we instead blame their presence on George Michael and Boy George? Or maybe the parakeets owe their freedom in London’s urban jungle to the Great Storm of 1987? There are so many origin myths in circulation that even a team of scientists investigated the mystery (more here).
But if you ask Londoners about the parakeets — how they got to London, or their opinions of the shrieking green squadrons commuting through the city’s skyways — you will quickly find that parakeets have made a deep impression in the city’s collective imagination.
And this is the subject of Nick Hunt’s delightful book, The Parakeeting of London: An adventure in gonzo ornithology (Paradise Road, 2019). As Mr Hunt and fellow ‘gonzo ornithologist’ and photographer, Tim Mitchell, follow the parakeets from parks to cemeteries to riverbanks, and along the way, they interview random people from all walks of life about their connections to these personable parrots.
“Parakeets, we soon discovered, are never just parakeets”, writes Mr Hunt (p. 39). “They are black canvases onto which people project their own values. They are flying metaphors: highly visible, highly audible symbols of just about anything that people want them to be.”
I was particularly fascinated to see that when people started talking about the parakeets, they nearly always ended up talking about something else. For example, although not the focus of the book, the parallel quickly became uncomfortably apparent between a few people’s attitudes towards the parakeets, which are an invasive species, and their attitudes towards human immigrants, that they conflated the avian with the human, transforming the ornithological into the political.
“Invading, colonizing, taking over. The implication was often there, especially in the run-up to the Brexit referendum”, Mr Hunt observed (p. 67). “Plundering hoards driving out the natives, seizing their territory, outbreeding, outcompeting; it was hard not to read between the lines.”
But most people welcome — and appreciate — immigrants, both human and psittacine. They were charmed by the parakeets’ bright colors against London’s often oppressive skies, were intrigued by their exotic otherness, and they often found the jubilant, self-confident parakeets amusing.
This slim, breezy book is surprisingly engaging — even addictive. It features a joyous potpourri of oral history, mythology, and natural history sleuthing threaded together by interviews with random Londoners from all walks of life who share their thoughts, opinions and ideas about their avian neighbors. It’s a quick read, a tiny glimpse into life in London, and any Anglophile, birdwatcher or parrot lover will enjoy this highly entertaining and quirky book.
NOTE: I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for my honest, unbiased review. Originally published at Forbes on 31 March 2020.
I live in parakeet central, and run in Richmond Park from time to time, so I jumped at this when I saw it in an indy bookshop in Kew and it's OK, but feels a bit thrown-together, like it would have been better if a bit more effort had gone into it. The most interesting thing was the parallel between people's attitude to invasive species and towards immigrant humans, but it doesn't really get off the ground. There's also a hint at a secret network but it's just a tantalising glimpse with no real meat to it. It wasn't quite as good as I expected.
Until reading this book, I was unaware of all the rose-ringed parakeets in London and surrounding areas (thousands), but this book is hardly more than a magazine article and the authors do not shed any light on how the parakeets got there since they are indigenous to Asia and Africa. It may be that no one really knows, although anecdotes abound. The pictures aren't very good either. Just an okay read for me.
A joyous celebration of how residents and visitors to London view the green ring-necked parakeets, who although not native to their environment, have managed to successfully colonize the habitat. Although the book has limited information on the natural history of the birds, it is filled with legends and lore about how the birds arrived on England’s shores and managed to make it their home.
This was a bit scattered, disorganized, and unscientific for me. Some of the interviews were embarrassing - so many people confidently incorrect. I feel like if they’d left the interviews out, this would have made a really great essay or Time Out feature.
I do love the Keets though so it was worth spending 40 minutes perusing this.
Perfect lockdown reading for Londoners who are spending a lot of time in their local parks. It’s a whimsical mix of urban legend, ornithology and sociology.