Well, that’s not something that happens every day.

There I was, popping out to the car, when I feel a thud against my right foot and hear a sound very much like someone frantically sweeping the pavement. I looked down, and saw this little fella, all balled up and spikey after his impromptu breakdance along my garden path. Naturally, the first thing I did was rush inside to grab my camera, but after that I spent a good few minutes trying to decide what to do with what potentially may be my first ever hedgehog victim. After a couple of proddings, and reassured that my right foot is not the finely tuned mammal killing device I feared it to be, I decided that the best course of action would be to leave the poor little guy alone, and let him do whatever he usually does when he finds himself in such situations. Quivver and shake a bit and then waddle off on his merry little way, in this case.

And a good thing too.

What exactly do you do with a dead hedgehog on your conscience?

(Nightmares about armies of prickly death machines would probably feature, in my case…)