To spot the goldcrests, bull finches, robins, thrushes, blackbirds, wrens and house sparrows in my small group of native trees requires patience and a willingness to drift into daydream. They flit through the trees with agility, slipping in and out of sight, wishing to remain unseen.
The same cannot, however, be said for the ever-expanding mob of invasive grey squirrels, who bound from branch to branch with astonishing confidence, swinging through the trees like acrobats, except with the grace of elephants tiptoeing through daisies. The young trees reverberate under their weight, accompanied by the screeches of outraged rooks, crows, jackdaws and magpies, who seem to resent the grey squirrels scurrying ceaselessly
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