COUNTRY LIFE Peter Quince
A neighbour of mine discovered a hibernating hedgehog in its snug lair of dried leaves the other day. It is rather remarkable, when one bears in mind how common these animals are in most parts of England, how seldom they are found in their winter hideouts. This hedgehog was rolled up in its nest, 'dead to the world' as the saying goes, in a tangle of brambles and fallen branches. My friend was going to clear the whole lot away and put it on his bonfire, and it was only chance that made him notice that the clump was inhabited. There must be quite a high mortality rate among hedgehogs every winter from such tidying-up operations by gardeners. Most people, I imagine, would gladly accommodate a hedgehog or two on their land as winter lodgers, and any gardener ought to be grateful for their assistance in controlling slugs and other pests; but once they settle into their leafy nests for hibernation they are difficult to see. I think hedgehogs must be the most accident-prone of all wild creatures in this country. They are frequently the victims of road accidents, of course; the corpse of a run-down hedgehog is a fairly familiar sight on country roads during the warmer months. On top of that, they are singularly at risk from such hazards as cattle-grids, narrow drains, and other man-made pitfalls. Their inquisitiveness seems greatly to exceed their agility, I witnessed an example of this in my garden last summer after I had constructed a sort of wire-netting pen to house a compost heap. On this occasion, evidently, some of the household waste which had been thrown in looked or smelt rather enticing to a patrolling hedgehog, so he thought he would climb over the wirenetting and have a feast. Unfortunately he over-estimated his climbing powers. I know that hedgehogs can in fact climb surprisingly well, but he was not nimble enough to cope with the problems of wirenetting. I found him, in the course of a pre-breakfast stroll round the garden, miserably suspended by one rear foot which had become entangled in the wire. Since hedgehogs confine their activity to the hours of darkness as much as possible, he had probably hung there for many hours. It was no problem to set him free. He was obviously exhausted, however, and could only lie on the ground puffing stertorously. I gave him a saucer of milk and left him. When I returned an hour later he was still there, but the milk had gone, and when I approached he had recovered enough to trot off into a hedge. However, the species breeds plentifully and seems to have no difficulty in keeping its numbers up in spite of all these hazards — to which must be added the war waged upon hedgehogs by gamekeepers who think them a serious threat to the eggs of pheasants and partridges. It is curious that an animal which, thanks to its well-developed defence of spines, has almost nothing to fear from natural enemies, should face so many risks of an unnatural kind. It still seems to be the case, though, that the perils of the hibernation period are the greatest that the hedgehog has to face, a fact which rather changes the faint feelings of envy of hibernating creatures which one is sometimes tempted to feel on a cold, dark, wet winter's morning. That hibernating hedgehog which we came across in its nest, even if it survives bonfires and similar dangers, will only live to enjoy the spring if it has managed to build up enough body fat to sustain life throughout the next three months or so. Hibernation is not merely a deep sleep, of course; during this part of its existence the hibernating hedgehog's body undergoes major changes — its temperature is sharply reduced and its heart rate drops to a tenth of •its normal speed, among other adjustments — but even so it depends upon its reserves to stay alive. Hedgehogs often produce two litters of young in the course of a year, and those born late in the summer or early in the autumn must be lucky if they accumulate the necessary weight of fat to keep them going through the winter. The natural wastage, therefore, is probably quite high, I hope that fellow we found under the brambles manages to make it. He looked plump enough, but he has a long way to go yet.
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