Aever was I so firmly reminded that nature is closer than you think, as some 30 years ago when a well smell welcomed me as a fresh Hagenaar. Three sperm whales washed up on the Zuiderstrand, dead. I can still gag at the memory of the heavy gases that had exploded from the poor animals' house-high pile of intestines, poisoning the air above the dunes.

Beautiful nature

For nature, you have to go outside, they always say. That is a misunderstanding. Yes, you can find nature in nature too, but in few places do I see as much nature as from my office, in the middle of the city. If only you want to see it.

Big-eared bat.

I looked outside one December evening and saw a lone figure dribbling in a decided line on the pavement across the street at dusk. A stray dachshund? No, its tail was far too thick for that. It was a fox. Hartje Den Haag.

Near the US ambassador's house, I once saw a roe deer in his garden. A little further on, around the Catshuis: squirrels on the grass. On the way to the sea, last year: a seal in the Verversingskanaal along Houtrustweg.

Ah, the little fox

On the city balcony at night, I can see the bats silently skimming through the air. And what is that little butterfly there on my sunflower? Ah, the little fox.

Little fox.

Nature is coming to us. It is becoming increasingly clear that in the countryside (and certainly farmland) much wild life has died out. Sprayed to death, mowed down or shot, and otherwise left of its own accord. To the city, where, as once before man, it becomes increasingly attractive to plants and animals.

The 'urban pigeon' is the best example: balconies and gutters are proving a comfortable alternative to the North African reef mountains it once came from. It is sheltered and safer there; chips and pizza are up for grabs on the street. Gulls, foxes and other animals are equally enthusiastic about the urban housing market and the free street food, packed in rubbish bags or hot puke slices.

Blue budgerigar

Last summer, a blue budgerigar flew past my window. Escaped from its cage, for a while in free urban nature - until a sparrowhawk or garden tiger caught sight of it. So I could nicely add that one to my list. My list: a small, harmless anomaly that does characterise more birdwatchers. A tiny remnant of hunter-gatherer.

After my last move, the neanderthal in me was ready for a new list of window birds: all the birds I saw from the window of my flat. In my previous upstairs flat (one of the many stately buildings in Regentessekwartier), I had noted 27 species in 13 years that had perched on my balcony or the little tree in front of it. I thought that was a lot, for in the middle of a city.

Now, a few hundred metres away, but higher, and closer to park Sorghvliet and the Scheveningse Bosjes, the score in the notebook has already doubled within a few years.

On the towers of the Peace Palace I shoot price with a peregrine falcon almost every day. Usually on the Z of the weather vane - apparently it likes to look at life from the sunny side. Logical: the spectacular bird of prey that can plunge towards its prey in the air at speeds of more than 300 kilometres per hour, once took refuge on cold mountain tops, now on the Watertoren near Meijendel and the church towers in Parkstraat and Laan van Meerdervoort (Bethlehem church).

Tawny Owl

At night, I am sometimes woken by a fairy-tale hollow cry. The pan-whistle of a tawny owl, exactly like the one that scares you in scary movies. Unfortunately, I never see this night owl, so I may not note it.

Tawny owl.

On a rainy day, I scour my list and see them in front of me again, my window birds. Brooding crows in the pine opposite the window. That summer full of swifts. I hear the green woodpecker laughing, the greenlings with their long-drawn chirps, the blackheads drowning them out.

Of course, always the 'common' tits, blackbirds and starlings. But also that string of 11 spoonbills in October, in a straight line migrating south. Redwings in winter. And also the screaming collar parakeets, cheerful diving birds that make you feel like you're in a tropical rainforest even in the middle of winter.

The last note for now is of four crowned ducks, perched on the pond opposite me. As the fiftieth species, the festive crowning touch to my window bird list.

Urban jungle

Nowhere is nature so close at hand as in the urban jungle. Nowhere is it so diversely populated as in The Hague, city of green and sea, from bird to roe. The wait is for the wolf. He will be at my window any moment.

Jean-Pierre Geelen (1964) lives in The Hague and is an editor at the Volkskrant, where he writes mostly about nature and biodiversity. He has published several books about his love of birdwatching.

The Hague-based Illustrator Medy Oberendorff (1975), a graduate in Product Design and Scientific Illustration, zooms in on the animals and plants we so often pass by in a style all his own.