I’m a House Sparrow – you might remember me from your garden or maybe from the park bench where you sat, lost in thought. I’ve been a part of your world for as long as you can remember, haven’t I? But have you noticed, there are fewer of us around these days? Let me share my story, our story, from the skies, trees, and hedges where we live.

Our Golden Days

Once, we were everywhere. We darted through your gardens, chirped from the rooftops, and played together in the bushes and hedges. We were the soundtrack to your morning cuppa and the tiny dancers tapping away at your window. Our bustling flocks were a sign of a thriving, lively community.

Then Things Began to Change…

Where Did the Spaces Go?

Do you know..?

Our favourite nesting spots – the old trees, the eaves of your houses, those dense, wild hedges – started disappearing. These concrete jungles and neat, trimmed gardens don’t have much room for a sparrow’s nest.

Where Did the Food Go?

Remember how we used to feast on insects and seeds? But then, something changed. The insects vanished, and the seeds became scarce. We heard it’s something to do with these ‘pesticides’ and the changing seasons.

And the Weather, Oh My!

The seasons aren’t what they used to be. Sometimes it’s too hot, sometimes too cold. It’s confusing and makes it hard for us to raise our little ones.

A Sparrow’s Plea

We miss being a part of your daily life, sharing your spaces, and chirping away happily. We know you miss us too – the little ones looking for us with their curious eyes, the elderly waiting to share crumbs with us.

What Can You Do?

It might seem like what happens to a bunch of sparrows doesn’t matter much. But it does. We’re a part of this intricate web of life, just like you. By helping us, you’re helping your environment. Maybe leave a little wildness in your garden, a corner for us to call home? Maybe be mindful of the chemicals you use? A little seed and fresh water would make our day.

We’re not just sparrows; we’re storytellers, singers, and part of your world’s tapestry. We’re the little joys, the simple pleasures – we’re the descendants of the once up-for-it cockney sparrow! But now, we’re having none of it – we’re canaries in a new kind of coal mine, and we’re afraid.