CounterPunch Exclusives

CounterPunch Exclusives

Under the Flight Paths

Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair

I lie in bed listening to the birds in the trees. Living with a true artist means no art on the bedroom walls, only in the studio. In the background is the hum of London traffic. Above all this, the first passenger jet of the morning. I have recounted this before—the birds, trees, traffic and planes of London.

London is home to as many as 1.5 million wild birds and more than 300 species. Even in the eaves above the bedroom window they nest.

It also contains some eight million trees—almost one for every resident—including oaks, planes, birches, sycamores and horse chestnuts, making it one of the world’s largest urban forests.

I am also writing beneath some of the world’s busiest air corridors. Some Londoners can identify aircraft types from sound alone. On a clear day, more than a thousand will cross the sky. Seeing a commercial airliner every few minutes is entirely normal.

We are forever peering upwards. So are the birds.

This particular morning, a single robin has much to say:

“The misery heaped on Lebanon deserves a mention.”

“As for Tony Blair?” says a blackbird, cocking its head at the wrong angle.

“Board of Peace?” nods the robin.

“Bored of peace, more like,” corrects the blackbird.

Cars are less sympathetic, except for the music. I hear the Daft Punk track Veridis Quo play loudly through the window of a black Audi. I see a drummer with all his kit clamber onto a red doubledecker bus. If vehicles spoke, what would they say?

“All day long I go up and down this bleeding........

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