Insights from Above: Learning with Birds about Our Cities

My thoughts have been taking flight recently, specifically around birds. This newfound focus was unexpectedly sparked by a trip to Seville a month ago – a city as vibrant and beautiful as it was unbelievably hot.

While wandering its streets, I stumbled upon the Metropol Parasol, a magnificent wooden structure colloquially known as the Setas (Mushrooms) of Seville. This colossal design by Jürgen Mayer is a true urban chameleon: a walkway, a landmark, a restaurant, a meeting place. Yet, its most striking feature, for me, was not its towering, fungi-like canopies, but the swarms of migratory swifts that were diving in and out of its intricate woodwork, transforming this grand piece of architecture into an unconventional, bustling home. The Setas, it seemed, had an unexpected life beyond its human-centric functions. You can see more in some (badly) filmed vignettes of swifts interacting with both Seville’s Setas and Cadiz’s Cathedral below.

Pigeons as a London Metaphor

This observation prompted me to think back to another avian resident dear to my heart: the pigeon. All four of us at Tangram were, to differing degrees, involved in shaping last year’s new visual identity for the London Museum. During our formative workshops and discussions with city residents to define what it means to "be a Londoner," consistent themes emerged: London as a destination, a place forged through journeying and effort. Londoners were practical, authentic, and resilient, striving firstly to arrive and then to consistently thrive in the city.

What surprised us was how frequently pigeons became a metaphor for this London spirit. Often maligned as "rats of the sky," for many pigeons nonetheless embodied remarkable resilience, adaptability, and determination. Pigeons had been shown to possess emotional intelligence and impressive memories – they might forgive, but they won’t forget! They were a part of the city’s unique, often contradictory fabric, contributing to its blend of the strange and familiar, the beautiful and the gritty.

The deeper we got into the conversations, the more we realised that, by talking about pigeons and their connection to the city, our assembled Londoners were describing themselves, reevaluating their pasts and piecing together their present, maybe even recalibrating their future. The concept of the pigeon was stimulating a re-evaluation of the city and of Londoners’ place within it.

But does that count as ‘learning from birds’? Well, actually… not quite. This example feels more anthropomorphic: a projection of human experiences onto these animals. It’s more a case of learning through birds, employing them to better understand ourselves. While nevertheless valuable, perhaps this tendency to frame all non-human interactions through our own lens is symptomatic of a larger, more deeply entrenched challenge?

A Call for 'Caring as Country'

In fact, this is a concept explored by anthropologists like Donna Haraway. As we deal with the effects of climate change, it’s becoming more important to rethink how we live and how we see our place in the world. Donna Haraway, in works like When Species Meet, suggests that humans aren’t separate from nature or in control of it; we’re deeply connected to other animals and living things. For example, we're constantly shaping and being shaped by animals, whether as companions (see our relationships with cats and dogs), or through natural processes like decay. She argues that we don’t live alone on this planet, we live with other species, learning and changing together. Instead of seeing ourselves as the predominant drivers of change, we should understand that we’re part of a bigger world, an entanglement of living things. It’s not just about taking care of the land, it’s about recognising that we are part of the land. Or, to borrow another relevant ontological framing courtesy of Suchet-Pearson et al, caring as country. 

So, what's the takeaway from this journey into the avian world? Rather than simply learning from birds, what if we started learning as birds? By truly observing and internalising their unique ways of inhabiting and navigating our urban spaces, could we unlock radical ideas, fresh perspectives, and unique insights for our urban environments? Could close, deep bird-watching really be an urban research methodology of the future?

It might sound a little outlandish but, if a sculpture can, through practice, transform into a restaurant, a resting place, and a home, perhaps by opening our minds to the intricate lives of all species, by learning with the birds, we can collectively make our cities – and our lives – just a little bit better.