Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
A couple of weeks ago on one of my nighttime garden trips with Arthur for a pee (not me you understand), I was sitting patiently, one eye half closed, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.
Pootling towards me was a baby hedgehog who came across the garden out of my smallest hedgehog house. Fearing Arthur might stumble into him accidentally, I quickly grabbed the hedgehog gloves I keep next to the back door and went to pick him up. He didn’t roll up but locked eyes with me, his little wet snout snuffling and sniffing the air around him, resting his front feet on my thumb. He was beautiful and as I inspected him he seemed perfectly fit and healthy and was a good weight for his size.
I carried him to the laundry area behind the gate carrying on a whispered conversation with him. This is where I always put out fresh water and kitten food nightly and, on popping him down, he went straight for the food bowl.
I bid him goodnight and went back to find Arthur at the backdoor wondering where I’d got to. Together we went back to bed. Two days later, it was a warm, sunny afternoon and, as I’d planned reading time, at about 3.30pm, I settled myself down in the chair in the garden with a cup of coffee. No more than 10 minutes later, my attention was drawn away from the page.
Sitting to my left and raising up on his back legs, using my slipper to support himself was my baby hedgehog! Surprised I said out loud: “Good grief, what are you doing up and about at this time in the afternoon?” Now we’re all told that hedgehogs wandering about in the daytime is a bad sign and generally it is but something I’ve learned through overwintering babies and having a large number use my garden on a nightly basis, it’s not always the case.
Sometimes, they just get too hot and so wake up to move themselves to a cooler spot. Sometimes, they are searching for a drink (especially in hot weather) and, sometimes, particularly mothers with babies, they’re out searching for food as early as 4pm, possibly to get in before the rush (I know the feeling!).
I’ve regularly had the same female nesting in my garden for a few years now (marked by pink nail polish so I know it’s her) and she regularly comes for an early feed, maybe because it’s not unusual for me to see as many as six or seven hedgehogs on a given night.
Knowing he seemed fine previously, I nipped to get my gloves and then picked up my friend. Again, he did not roll up, so I took him into the kitchen to check him over and weigh him. At 320g, he was a good weight for his size, I could see no sign of ticks or injuries. His eyes were bright, his nose was glossy and wet, and he was very active, appearing in perfect health.
As it was very hot, I didn’t want to put him back out in the sun, so made the decision to pop him into a large, deep basket with food and water in the cool of the dining room. Now, I’m fully aware that hedgehogs can climb really well, so I looked around the kitchen to see where I could anchor him while I got the basket from the garden. Yes, I thought and promptly locked him into the dog crate, Arthur snorting derisively.
Once placed into his laundry basket on the table though, I put in a bowl of food, a bowl of water, and some scrunched-up paper packing for him to hide under. He immediately went for the water drinking noisily and then the food, munching away happily so that I felt I could leave him in peace.
If you’ve ever rescued or taken in hedgehogs you’ll know that they are horrendously stinky little creatures with the most appalling manners. They think nothing of ploughing through their food and water bowls with all four feet and are apt to poo in them.
I’ve known them sit pooing in one food bowl as they pull forward a second where they rest their front feet as they eat – perhaps to ward off other hedgehogs, claiming both bowls, but I suspect merely because they have no manners!
Now, I do have a particularly spectacular olfactory system, which has been both a blessing and a curse my whole life. But, within half an hour, even with the back door wide open, my stinky little friend was permeating through the whole house.
I had three visitors that afternoon and was quick to show each of them my dining room guest, lest they think my house always smelt like that – and I confess, come dusk, I was really rather grateful to be able to pop him back outside.
Once marked with a dab of blue nail polish on his spines (vegan of course), I placed him in the laundry area where he spent the next half hour tootling about before taking himself off through the fence onto the railway bank. The smell lingered long after he’d gone but that’s life.
I’ve seen him twice since then, including last night. Their numbers have been worryingly low this year but at least my little friend appears to be doing well…fingers crossed!
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