“Give me one good reason for staying in Pakistan,” said one of my friends in Canada last week; and my response was immediate and spontaneous… ‘the wildlife’. It was one of those answers that pops out unbidden and took me a little by surprise, but true nonetheless. Living on the outskirts of the city in an area, which is still semi-agricultural, means that I come into daily contact with a variety of wild creatures of all shapes and sizes, some of them more intimately than others.

Sitting on the step in the weak sunshine and having a cup of tea while reading the newspaper, something moved in my peripheral vision. It was the local mongoose. Brother Mongoose is a frequent visitor these days and does a regular tour of the garden, mostly towards the end of the day. He is less shy than he used to be and will now stand and regard me for a few seconds before moving on. I have tried tossing a morsel or two in his direction but he is having none of it, preferring something freshly murdered to my offerings.

Nowhere near as fussy are the family of crows that have nested in the mango tree for as long as I can remember… now over 15 years. They come and repair their scruffy nest every year without fail. They are led by Matriarch Crow who I recognise from a twisted toe and who has decided that taking cornflakes from my bowl as I stand on the roof having an early breakfast is just the way for an elderly crow to start the day. She is quite pushy these days, and if there is no bowl of cornflakes in hand, she looks very disgruntled. Mrs Crow has reached the point where she will sit briefly and watchfully on my hand, and there is an almost primal pleasure in feeling the thrusting down force generated by her wingbeat as she takes off. We hit it off, me and Mrs Crow.

For years, I looked for the bird which made the sharp ‘chip-chip-chip’ sound. They seemed always to be in the garden but I could never spot them. The fact that it was a squirrel making the noise might have something to do with that. It was my wife who eventually broke the news to me. Apparently, it had been something of a quiet joke for as many years as I had been listening to the bird that was really a squirrel. Everybody else knew it was a squirrel but allowed me to continue to look for a bird. So now I know that what I hear is an alarm call from the Indian Palm Squirrel and there are dozens of the little devils who share the mango tree with the crows. They too have grown bolder over the years and will now run across me if I am sitting in the rocking chair on the verandah. They have also taken up residence in the parrot’s aviary, much to the disgust and derision of Sid and Nancy who have very decided negative views about squirrels.

Mr Field Rat is relatively new, only appearing in the last year. He advertised his presence with a couple of mounds of moist sandy soil but defied an actual sighting until a couple of weeks ago. He and Abi, the rabbit, look like developing a cross-species friendship. Then there is the fat-tailed gecko that lives in my bedroom, the tiny dark birds in the orange tree and yes, one of the good reasons for staying in Pakistan is that I could never bid ‘good evening’ to a wild mongoose in England!

The writer is a British social worker settled in Pakistan. Email: manticore73@gmail.com