In the early 1900s, Karachi was a modest coastal town teeming with green canopies, fresh air, and the natural music of chirping birds—especially sparrows. They were as intrinsic to the city’s identity as its old stone buildings and sea breeze. Morning hours began with the flutter of wings and melodious calls that echoed through narrow streets, shaded gardens, and terraced homes. Among them, the house sparrow (Passer domesticus) was the most visible and audible. Estimates suggest that sparrow populations once numbered in the hundreds of thousands across the metropolitan area. Today, that figure has plummeted by over 80 percent, according to a 2023 report by the Wildlife and Environmental Protection Society of Pakistan (WEPSP).
Environmentalists and ornithologists warn that this disappearance is not just a quiet tragedy, but a loud alarm bell for Karachi’s natural ecosystem. Alongside sparrows, other native bird species such as the Asian koel, red-vented bulbul, pied myna, and Indian robin have seen massive declines. “We have lost nearly 60 percent of our native bird population in just the last 40 years,” says Dr. Abid Shaikh, a senior ecologist and researcher with the Pakistan Nature Federation. “This is a collapse of bio-indicators that once told us the city was still breathing.”
The reasons behind this loss are manifold. Karachi’s explosive population growth—from under 200,000 in 1947 to more than 20 million today—has reshaped its urban profile beyond recognition. The shift from low-rise, foliage-rich colonies to concrete jungles of high-rises, malls, and endless flyovers has reduced green spaces to a shadow of their past. Old bungalows with trees and creepers that housed nests have been replaced by cement blocks that offer no shelter or food sources for birds. Insecticides and pesticides sprayed on ornamental plants have wiped out the insects sparrows feed their chicks. The rise of mobile towers emitting electromagnetic radiation has also been blamed for disorienting birds and interrupting their breeding patterns.
“Karachi’s birds are victims of modernization without responsibility,” explains Rubina Qureshi, an environmental journalist and activist. She recalls her childhood in Nazimabad in the 1970s, when sparrows would nest in ventilators and bathroom windows. “Now there’s glass, metal, and noise everywhere. Even our parks have become more about aesthetics than biodiversity.”
Karachi’s transformation over the last century has been dizzying. Once dubbed the “City of Gardens” in the 1930s, it boasted abundant trees, freshwater streams, and rich wetlands near its periphery. These served as natural habitats not only for birds but also for small mammals, reptiles, and countless insect species. However, successive waves of unplanned urban expansion, deforestation, and infrastructure projects have fractured the city’s ecological networks. Today, less than 3 percent of the city is covered in green space, far below the global urban standard of 10-15 percent.
Birds like the sparrow played a subtle yet critical role in Karachi’s ecological balance. They controlled insect populations, helped pollinate flowering plants, and served as prey for larger predators. Their vanishing has led to unchecked pest outbreaks and a sharp drop in native plant regeneration. Insects previously controlled naturally now require chemical intervention, further poisoning the environment and perpetuating the cycle of ecological degradation.
Efforts to reverse this loss have been modest. A few NGOs have started sparrow nesting initiatives and “bird-friendly gardens” in schools and residential areas. But experts argue that unless city planners integrate biodiversity into the heart of urban development—by restoring wetlands, planting indigenous trees, and restricting chemical use—the decline will not only continue but accelerate.
“The silence in our mornings is not peaceful—it’s terrifying,” says Dr. Shaikh. “It’s the sound of nature receding from our lives. Karachi cannot survive as a concrete organism. We need to remember that a city without birds is a city without a soul.”
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Coverpage’s editorial stance.
