It's very quiet around here.

Now is the season of mellow mists and fruitfulness. The parks and gardens suddenly look very yellow and forlorn. The bushes and trees have gradually lost their familiar clothing of leaves and greenery and around here all of the wildlife has now, whether for better or worse, flown off to warmer or even colder shores.

The kingfishers and herons have sadly departed for different climates. They are shrewd and forward thinking birds because here in the leafy suburbs of London, the temperature, albeit very gradually and gracefully, is beginning to drop. But the fact is that the the vaguely drawn outlines of winter are much clearer than they were in the middle of September and the beginning of October.

During the summer there was a sharp and blue clarity to life. The birds dance across the sky  in majestic and united formation. It was rather like watching a beautiful curtain, silky drapes swaying across the sky before diving headlong onto chimney tops. Then they seem to scratch themselves for the briefest of moments before posing and preening themselves unashamedly.

Autumn has settled in for the duration and the early morning frosts are sharp. This autumn is perhaps one of the warmest in years. You take your rubbish out to the bin and you're suddenly joined by large communities of grey squirrels. Now squirrels are our almost permanent residents and they'll do anything for an early morning breakfast. Squirrels follow you throughout the year with a relentless persistence and one day they'll pick a different neighbourhood.

Still there isn't a great deal you can do about squirrels. This is not to say that they're annoying or intrusive but they will kip in our bins. I'm not sure whether they'll find anything in there. It seems to me that our bin has become their very own Premier Inn. But there are so many things missing and all of the essential facilities are missing. It's a wonder that squirrels don't catch pneumonia. How on earth do they keep warm at night? They're delightful creatures and maybe they think they deserve something better than a pile of rotting human rubbish and broken boxes. Still it doesn't seem to bother them at all so it's best to leave things as they are.

For instance there are no beds, bedsheets, mattresses and comfortable pillows in the bin. There are a distinct lack of toothbrushes, nothing that even remotely resembles a pillow and no crisp bed sheets whatsover. What does a squirrel do when he can no longer rely on the blissful sanctuary of a warm and cosy bed? It seems that a huge bin of rubbish does nothing to deter a squirrel from getting its head down at night.

But day after day the grey squirrels pop their heads out of  the bin to greet me. In no time at all they just sprint away from the bin rather like Usain Bolt in training. They move with spectacular speed and swiftly vanish into the undergrowth, briefly petrified but then comforted by the knowledge that their day can only get better.

These squirrels are very daring creatures without fear and completely lacking in shame. They fix you with the most inquisitive stares before rising up, nibbling adorably on a nut or two and then disappearing again. Nobody knows what squirrels do during the day nor their neighbouring rivals who call themselves foxes.

Now foxes are occasional animals who sporadically appear at the bottom of our communal garden with an almost brazen chutzpah. Rather like the squirrels they must have their day mapped out for them. When you do see them it does come as a pleasant surprise because nobody sends them an invitation into our garden. They just prowl very carefully and stealthily through the bushes rather like cunning burglars and last summer one very audacious brown fox came right up to me in our communal garden with nothing in the way of a formal announcement or introduction.

I was happily reading a book and suddenly it was there, bold as brass. For a moment I was stunned and gripped by a slight uneasiness. But this little fox or vixen came strolling and swaggering its way into my sight without a hint of self consciousness. Wide eyed and perhaps bemused, it behaved with all the decorum and discretion you'd expect of a fox. Or maybe it was just keeping its emotions to itself. It was hard to tell and my anxieties were allayed when the fox made a quick exit. In the blink of an eye it was off to lunch at the Savoy. Perhaps.

Throughout the years the wildlife in London is something we probably take for granted but whether they be fox, squirrel, or pigeon they do provide us with a fascinating backdrop to our lives. Oh yes I mustn't forget the pigeons because they stubbornly refuse to give up on their fruitless quest for food. You get the feeling that pigeons just live for their daily intake of grub and will do everything they can to find anything they can to scoff their faces with. Maybe they think they'll find a works canteen down here with a choice of toast, cereal and eggs benedict. Maybe they think they're going to be served by polite waiters in smart uniforms. But your admiration for the pigeon is heightened by the minute as they strut around our local bakeries with an almost ridiculous presumptuousness. Generally though there is very little though in the way of an incentive so they may have to look elsewhere for their sustenance.

There are times though when the pigeons around here get exactly what they're looking for. On more than one occasion whole families of pigeons gather around in well organised groups. There is a deliberate strategy and calculation about their body language. They seem to  huddle around each other expectantly rather like Premier League footballers before a game. Then they just dive headlong into a rugby style ruck for huge loaves of bread. They eat huge loaves of bread with all the desperation of the desperate, pecking, grabbing, pinching, stealing, dragging and then engaging in a huge bust up when their appetites have yet to be satisfied.

And now the dark winter evenings become earlier and earlier and the wildlife around here is alive and well, functioning as actively as it always has. Those kingfishers and herons can smell breakfast again. Could somebody pass the marmalade please.