Even from the outside looking in, the Occupy Toronto camp is reminiscent of a small village. Clusters of multi-coloured tents form the seemingly impromptu community, which includes a kitchen, medical centre and library.

Come Tuesday, it'll have been a month since the first tent was pitched in St. James Park. While participants fortify the encampment for winter's frigid arrival, city officials have warned that the demonstration's days are numbered.

"They've had a peaceful protest, but I think it's time that we asked them to leave," Toronto Mayor Rob Ford told reporters last Wednesday.

City Manager Joe Pennachetti has hinted that the city will begin trying to clear the Occupy camp early next week as the protest reaches its one-month mark.

But Pennachetti and Ford have yet to disclose a specific plan for how the city intends to oust the protesters. While lawmakers hammer out details, Toronto's occupiers are already preparing for the long haul.

"This movement is really just getting started," says Occupier Bruce Petracek. "I really don't think there's anything more important happening in the world right now."

For more than two weeks, Petracek has lived in a bright yellow tent on the northern edge of St. James Park. Fleece blankets, an acoustic guitar and a laptop sit inside the 25-year-old's shelter.

Petracek is a recent grad from York University's International Development Studies program and says he's unhappy with the yawning gap between the rich and the poor.

Like many of his neighbours, who are also camped out beneath St. James Cathedral's towering spires, Petracek said he's willing to hunker down in his tent until society moves toward an economic model that he says is more just.

"This is history in the making and I think winter will actually unify this camp," he said. "We're progressively getting more and more organized."

Fluid numbers, mounting pressure

Organizers surmise that there are about 300 tents erected with hundreds more demonstrators milling around the public green space.

"To be honest, the media counts us more than we count ourselves. It's almost impossible to keep track," says Michael Vessey who spends several hours each day manning the camp's logistics station, where donations are collected and supplies are distributed to whoever needs them.

He's right. Building an ad hoc community in the middle of one of Canada's most populous cities means strangers are constantly streaming in and out of the campsite. Most days it's difficult to tell where the 99 per cent ends and the one per cent begins.

Even if the tents are tallied, a slew of supporters don't live on site. They are the lifeblood of Occupy Toronto, visiting regularly with extra food and sleeping bags.

Perched under the logistics tent, Vessey puts away three rolls of red duct tape that have just been donated. With the pace of a revolving door, occupiers stream by the station to pick up spare blankets, report grievances or just grab a piece of candy from a wicker dish next to the tent opening.

Suddenly, a woman toting a bag from Pusateri's, a local upscale grocery store, approaches from Adelaide Street East.

"Good luck. I hope you win," she tells Vessey before slipping a sum of cash into the camp's wooden donation box.

Fifty-eight per cent of Canadians who are aware of the Occupy movement support the demonstrations, according to a recent Nanos poll for The Globe and Mail and La Presse.

That survey was conducted before a 23-year-old woman was found dead in her Occupy Vancouver tent. It was also tallied before a man in his 20s was rushed to hospital for a suspected drug overdose at the Occupy Toronto encampment.

Specific details are still scant but those incidents were enough to trigger a notable backslide in support from municipal officials for the Canadian Occupy movement.

Protesters in London, Ont. were removed from Victoria Park by police last Wednesday. City officials in Vancouver, Calgary and Toronto have pledged to start evicting protesters, citing public safety concerns.

"On the police side of things, we haven't been called to the Occupy camp that often," says Toronto police spokesperson Mark Pugash.

Yellow-jacketed officers are often seen lingering around the perimeter of St. James Park, keeping a casual eye on protesters. But as far as emergencies go, Pugash says he can count the number of police calls to the Occupy Toronto site on one hand.

Quiet support, vocal opposition

Across the street, diners are surveying menus at Biagio Italian Restaurant. White tablecloths and glass wine goblets entice passersby from the restaurant's windows.

"We have big windows so we've got to look right at (protesters)," says the restaurant's owner Biagio Vinci. "Enough is enough."

Vinci says he's had fewer customers since the Occupy Toronto camp sprung up. He speculates that the camp is attracting transient and drug-addled individuals who may be intimidating his patrons.

It's no secret. Vulnerable members of the city's populace have flocked to the Occupy Toronto campsite, some seeking a hot meal or a free blanket. They are welcomed at the food station and handed sleeping bags at the logistics tent.

Rev. Douglas Stoute, dean of the neighbouring St. James Cathedral, says this shouldn't be surprising given the protest's location and its focus on decreasing economic disparity.

"You're downtown. There's going to be people who are fragile," he says. "That's not a product of the Occupy protest that's a product of living in the city."

Over at the logistics tent, a woman attempts to cover hacking coughs with her right hand. She tells Vessey that she was just treated for pneumonia at St. Michael's Hospital before walking away from the site with a fur-trimmed winter jacket.

"There have been some challenging situations," says camp resident and organizer Zack Lathrop. "But everyone is accepted here and our goal is to coexist peacefully."

Endgame still unclear

By late afternoon, the temperature at the Occupy Toronto encampment has crept closer to the dreaded 0 C mark.

A young woman in a crocheted red cap approaches the logistics tent. She says she's a Toronto-based social worker and offers pro-bono help to anyone on site who might need it.

Moments later, a middle-aged man rides his bike over to the tent. He tells Vessey and Lathrop that he's a chartered accountant and wants to help the movement keep track of its donations.

Then comes Mai Nguyen.

The 26-year-old says she has experience building water recycling systems. Nguyen wants to help Toronto's Occupiers create a grey water system, which would filter water on-site so it could be used again.

"It seems like they're building a lot of infrastructure for the long-term," she says. "That's why I'll invest time and energy. I have a feeling they're going to be around for awhile."

By 5 p.m. the cacophonous bells at St. James Cathedral are ringing, the sound drifting over the Occupy encampment.

Somewhere behind a collection of tents, protesters are banging on drums. Nearby, volunteers stack dishes at the food station. Incense is still burning at the on-site library.

The sun will set soon. But for now, the Occupiers are still awake.