Helping The Hedgehog

When I was a young man. I would often dismount from my motorcycle to aid a hedgehog across the rural road down which I was returning home, before he or she got himself or herself flattened by nocturnal traffic. In those days Britain was awash with the little spiky critters. But, as the decades passed, car numbers increased, hedgehog territories reduced, and with predator numbers increasing, it meant that times were difficult for Erinaceus Europaeus. In fact, it was a full eight years after I moved back into the country, before I saw one – and then only the once. Then, during the drought of 2022, I heard my dogs going bananas in the back garden. Upon investigation I discovered a rather pissed-off ball of spikes blinking in the light of my torch. Naturally I chased the dogs off and gave it a slice of ham. My garden then became part of the hedgehog’s territory, and it returned every night from then on. A while later, whilst channel surfing, I chanced upon a small segment on a local news program concerning the less-than-common hedgehog. Because of their decreasing numbers, the ‘Expert’ was imploring people to help them by supplying water during dry times (doing that already, thank you) and building overwintering habitats for their resident animal. “Ah-ha,” cried I, “time to get the tool box out: it’s ‘project’ time!”

Two days later…

How could ‘my’ hedgehog not give this more than a passing glance?

Inside, beyond the porch, and behind the hay, there is a vestibule –  an inner wall to deflect the winter winds. Beyond that is the hibernation chamber, which comprises three layers of insulation – wood, corrugated plastic, and finally waterproof roofing felt – all kept from the wet or frozen ground by a metal frame, and topped with a plastic roof made from the floor of a dog cage. How can it resist? But if it does – coz they are kinda dumb-asses – I’m confident the mice, voles, or whatever will find a cozy home there.