Melbourne’s peregrine falcons are a cultural phenomenon. For decades, pairs of falcons have raised their chicks from an eyrie 150 metres above the street in the office block at 367 Collins Street. Since a live stream was established in 2017, cameras have beamed their every move to thousands of fans, for 12 weeks each year during breeding season.
Can you ever get too much peregrine falcon-cam? Not likely. I am one of thousands smitten by the chicks and, as we near the end of the season, I am addicted to the live stream.
The trio of young females, poised to fledge, flapped their wings like wild windup toys, building up the chest muscles required to fly.
On Thursday, two of them did it. One flew off the ledge about 6am. At 8am, a second appeared to slip off; both are assumed still alive.
Young peregrines have heads, wings and tails of steel-grey, with striped cream and brown bodies and legs. Here and there, they sport flecks of down that make them look scruffy, like badly groomed teens.
On the live stream, we have watched them from the moment they hatched, so weak they couldn’t hold up their heads. Like human infants, they were helpless. All day, they did nothing but open their mouths to accept pigeon meat – when they weren’t sleeping.
As the fluffy balls of down grew, they ate voraciously, fed six or more times a day. The ledge they live on became a charnel house of discarded bones, cast-off pigeon feathers eddying in the wind. They earned the nickname “murder pompoms”.
With the breeding season drawing to a close, the cameras will soon be turned off. On Facebook, one fan wrote: “I’m going to miss them!”
But their nest (or “scrape”) is only part of the falcon story. Watching them raise young is riveting but it’s a bit like watching Margot Fonteyn without the ballet, Simone Biles without gymnastics.
Peregrine falcons are the fastest animals on earth, reaching speeds of 300km/h. If you want to appreciate them, you need to see them fly. To do that, you must visit the city.
A screengrab from the live stream of the peregrine falcons at 367 Collins Street, Melbourne. Photograph: Melbourne CBD Falcons
It’s not hard to find 367 Collins. From south-east of the CBD, its grey bulk rises above the elegant clocktower of Flinders Street station. The ledge faces east and the parents whiz up and down from it every couple of hours.
Many times, I’ve also seen them on extended sorties, when they loop in circles above the city from Collins Street to Treasury Gardens and back.
Recognising them is easy. The peregrines form unique shapes in the sky; their tapered wings make them look a bit like an anchor. The city has countless birds – silver gulls, pigeons, ravens and sparrows – but none fly so high, or with the same profile.
Seeing a falcon gliding on high around Melbourne is a visceral thrill. It touches the need in me for a greater connection to nature; my dream is to live outside the city and wake to the sound of birdcalls, not cars.
But there’s a sting in this avian entertainment. The mass watching of the live stream makes me deeply uneasy. Through technology, we increasingly encounter nature through screens. We share and post about it, normalising the artificial.
Is experiencing nature through a screen authentic or is it a habit-forming cypher for the real thing?
The peregrines have sparked people’s fascination and heartfelt commentary, but does it ever translate to birdwatching or getting involved with conservation?
I don’t know.
Peregrine falcons are known to be increasing their use of city buildings for their nest sites worldwide. This reflects dimly on our destruction of their habitats in the bush.
Still, I’m happy to see these birds of prey so close to home. Long may they rule in the skies above Melbourne.
Debbie Lustig is a Melbourne writer, birdwatcher and occasional wildlife rescuer