I grew up in the 1970s, and as a young child I was hopelessly obsessed with hedgehogs (I still am!) My grandfather would take me (or rather I would pester my grandfather!) To go on a hedgehog hunt! NOT to kill them! Just to see them. I had a small poodle dog called skippy & I’d stuff him in to every nook & cranny I could find, in the hope that the world find a hedgehog! No luck! I never found a hedgehog on our hedgehog hunt.
But in the mid 90s I found myself the manager of & living in a castle, with 40 acres of gardens (National Trust)
I had a golden retriever, and going for walks at night, I regularly would loose Taliesin (my dog) but when I would call, along he’d trip holding (ever so gently) in his mouth a balled up hedgehog! He did this on a regular basis! I don’t know if the spirit of my childhood poodle was reincarnated in my golden retriever?
Anyway, he’d gently put the hedgehog down by my feet, and in no time the little creatures would un furl and wander off, not a bit the worse for wear, just little confused about their unplanned journey.
I now have two hedgehogs living in my garden, 1 large female, & a smaller male. And what a noise! The female makes, when she’s not in the mood to be bothered by the small male.
I’ve also nursed a few hoglets & adult hedgehogs to health, when village friends find sick or injured ones. So you could say that I’m STILL obsessed with the beautiful little prickly creatures!
