Real Stories of Immigrant Life: Story Fifty-Three

Fighting for Grey Squirrels and Tango as a Way of Integrating into a New Country

AKCENTUK continues its series about immigrants from the former Soviet Union. Our latest heroine originally moved to London for family reasons and now finds herself fighting in British courts for the rights of animals officially classified as an "invasive species."

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Nadia Raud, 46, volunteer, moved to the UK from Tallinn in 2005:

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I moved to England more than twenty years ago with my husband, who is also originally from Tallinn and worked in IT. Back in Estonia, I had a good life: I was studying psychology, working in television, and generally well settled. But my husband was unhappy in his job and wanted something more interesting and with better prospects, so I followed him.

At that time, Europe had just opened its borders and it had become possible to move without visas. Relocating was incredibly simple. We practically took the first train to England. If you had an Estonian passport, you could simply arrive, register your address, pay taxes, and eventually obtain permanent residency.

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My husband found work quite quickly. Continuing my studies in England was more difficult. Distance learning was almost impossible back then, and soon afterwards my university lost its accreditation, so I had to abandon my plans for further education. During my first few years, I worked as a nanny and took various temporary jobs.

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Later, I was fortunate enough to become involved with the charity Podari Zhizn ("Gift of Life"), before it became the independent organisation known as Gift of Life. Around 2008, I became one of their volunteers in England. In fact, I have been volunteering since 2001. I started in Estonia, helping animals and participating in various initiatives. One day I saw a LiveJournal post looking for volunteers to help deliver medicines to Moscow. Later, when children came to London for medical treatment, I helped them as well.

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To be honest, I did not particularly like England at first. We initially lived in a rather unpleasant and unsafe part of London. We shared a flat with a friend and would often meet each other at the station if someone came home late. That was our life for about a year and a half.

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Then, in 2007, we moved to Harrow, and everything changed. We bought a house with a garden through a mortgage. Paying for it was extremely difficult. When we first moved in, we literally had a bag of potatoes and five pounds left because every penny had gone on moving costs. But we were happy.

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That was when I realised how wonderful London could be. Harrow was still a very English neighbourhood back then, full of elderly British couples, old gardens, roses and apple trees. It has changed a lot since.

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Wanting to integrate, I took up tango. It helped me become part of London life, stop being afraid of speaking imperfect English, and gain confidence. I danced tango for about ten years and eventually even taught it.

In 2005, the terrible London Underground bombings took place. My husband could easily have been killed. He and a colleague had intended to take the Victoria line train that was later bombed. By pure chance, I delayed him at home that morning over some everyday matter, and he missed the train. His colleague was seriously injured, but my husband escaped unharmed.

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After the attacks, a movement called Tango Commute emerged. We danced tango in railway stations and on bridges, listening to music through headphones, helping people overcome fear and reclaim public spaces. That was around 2007–2008.

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The difference between London then and now feels enormous. Fifteen years ago, it seemed like a city of opportunity, almost like the American Dream. If you worked hard, you could succeed. Many of the people who moved here at that time did very well for themselves.

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Today, I sometimes feel sorry for newcomers. London has become harsher and less welcoming. Through my work helping animals, I see how difficult life has become. Many people have lost jobs, and many cannot afford veterinary treatment for their pets. People's attitudes towards animals have changed too. Stress and frustration are more often taken out on them. Before the 2020s, Britain almost had a cult of pets; dogs and cats were adored. Now things are more complicated.

I run my own grey squirrel rescue in Britain called Urban Squirrels.

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The idea came completely by accident. In 2022, I found a baby squirrel in a London park near our home. It had lost its mother. A girl of about twelve was trying to kill it with a stick while her dog stood nearby on a lead. I was furious.

At that moment, I realised I wanted to help squirrels as well.

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I needed to find someone who could teach me how to care for baby squirrels properly: what milk to give them, how to feed them, even how to help them go to the toilet. I already had experience with dogs and rabbits, but squirrels are completely different.

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A friend told me about Natalia Doran, who already ran a squirrel rescue and knew exactly what to do. We have now been friends for five years. We share a deep love of animals and speak almost every day about how best to help them.

A year later, I obtained my own licence to keep squirrels legally. In Britain, you cannot simply keep them at home.

Grey squirrels are very close to my heart. In a way, they are immigrants too, just like us. They arrived in Britain from North America and are slightly larger than the native red squirrels.

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There is a serious campaign against them here. They are regarded as an invasive species that should be eliminated. Red squirrels are considered "good" and grey squirrels "bad," as if grey squirrels had deliberately driven reds out.

But the reality is much more complicated.

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Red squirrels simply struggle to find suitable habitat and food in London, while grey squirrels have adapted successfully. In parts of northern England and Scotland, reds and greys coexist perfectly well. Yet the issue is surrounded by politics and money. Farmers, for example, receive substantial funding for grey squirrel control because the animals are said to damage crops and fences.

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The biggest problem is that grey squirrels are officially classified as an invasive species. They are not allowed to be kept in captivity without a licence. If someone finds an injured squirrel, it is often euthanised rather than treated.

We are trying to change that. We have taken our case to the civil courts and challenged Parliament as a private animal welfare organisation. We want licensed volunteers to be allowed to rehabilitate and release these animals. So far, we have not succeeded, but we continue to hope.

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I often ask people: why is one squirrel considered acceptable and another not? Simply because one arrived earlier? If we apply that logic, then immigrants are an invasive species too.

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Through our rescue, we have written a children's book about a baby squirrel, published in both Russian and English, and distributed it to schools and children's organisations across London.

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The main character is a lonely baby squirrel who is different from everyone else, yet still loved.

The story is based on a real rescue. Builders discovered a squirrel nest, searched for the mother, but could not find her, and eventually handed the babies to volunteers.

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Squirrels are incredibly gentle and intelligent animals, and stories about accepting those who are different touch many adults as deeply as they do children.

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We are currently working on a new educational book about squirrels for a British audience.

As part of our campaign, we have tried to engage with the media. Recently, David Attenborough's documentary Wild London was released on Netflix. It featured foxes and even snails, but once again completely ignored grey squirrels.

One of our volunteers wrote to the producers and received a response saying that they could not cover the subject.

I find that disappointing. I have always believed David Attenborough genuinely loves animals, but sometimes it feels as though even famous people are not free to discuss every issue openly.

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If traps are placed in one park, grey squirrels may disappear for a season, but they will soon return. Eliminating all grey squirrels would not suddenly fill London with red squirrels.

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Despite everything, I am happy doing what I do and have no intention of giving up this fight. To me, grey squirrels are a symbol of English parks and of the London I first came to know.

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Today I share my life with a dog, two rabbits, two runner ducks and eight squirrels. All of the squirrels are disabled and require ongoing care.

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In the past, I cared for around fifteen rabbits, most of them rescue animals abandoned by previous owners and referred by shelters or veterinarians.

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We own a house in the countryside and hope to expand our rescue in the near future, allowing us to take in more animals needing rehabilitation.

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What does charity mean to me? It is the meaning of life. It is what gets me out of bed in the morning.

There was a period when I suffered from severe depression. The only things that stopped me from taking my own life were the animals and the responsibility of caring for them.

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I have also been very lucky in my husband. He helps with the baby squirrels and looks after them alongside me.