From Mrs Tiggy-Winkle to Spiny Norman by Elizabeth Kay

 Hedgehogs are part of British culture, and are so distinctive that they have figured in our literature for a long time. They are in serious decline in the UK these days, thanks to road kill and pesticides, so I was thrilled when I set up the camera trap to see if foxes were digging up our Jerusalem artichokes and discovered a hedgehog bustling past instead. The artichokes are fine, by the way, just a bit slow to emerge, and are now three foot tall. Since then we reckon we have spotted five different individuals, thanks to Brambles Crunchy Hedgehog Food, which is very popular, and makes their munching audible halfway down the garden when they arrive for their breakfast – 21.30 at the moment. Bread and milk, the traditional offering, is very bad for them, and cat biscuits make another acceptable and safe alternative. They are incredibly entertaining, as they have no compunction about shoving competitors for their lady friends out of the way, and have very noisy and lengthy wooing sessions. They roam between many gardens, and for me that is the best way to have a pet. An animal that lives its own life, but turns up of its own free will for breakfast, as do the goldfinches and the wood pigeons and on one memorable occasion, a brambling.

 As we don’t have any birds nesting in our camera boxes this year, for the first time ever, this has made up for it in spades. Their only enemies, apart from humans, are badgers, but we don’t get them in our garden as none of the entrances are big enough.

The Tale of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, by Beatrix Potter, was published in 1909, and was my first introduction. It’s a bit sexist, which is surprising, as Beatrix had her own battles. She was a very talented illustrator, and a mycologist. Her toadstool pictures are beautiful, and spot-on accurate. She discovered that fungi reproduce with spores, but no one believed her because she was a woman. Mrs Tiggy-Winkle is a washerwoman, a profession unknown to the young today, and takes care of all the laundry. Apparently Beatrix had a pet hedgehog herself, whom she drew for the illustrations.  

 Spiny Norman is something else altogether. He was a character who appeared from time to time in Monty Python’s Flying Circus. The notorious  Piranha Brothers, Doug and Dinsdale, were born on probation, the eldest sons in a family of sixteen, and headed a reign of terror in the East End of London. Their father, Arthur Piranha, was a scrap metal dealer and quiz master, and their mother, Kitty Malone, was a boxer. Spiny Norman was an imaginary giant hedgehog – measuring ten feet from nose to tail – who appeared to Dinsdale from time to time, and could be as long as 600 yards when he was depressed. You can find him on YouTube. 

As a child I had a wonderful book, although I can’t remember the title. The illustrations were all in black and white, but they were very good indeed. It concerned a little girl who made friends with a gypsy who lived in a caravan, and he took her all over the place to observe different animals, native to the UK, and learn about them. Can you imagine anything like that being published today? A child who goes off with an older man, unbeknownst to her parents, and spends her time watching foxes and deer and badgers? The gypsy, Zachary Boswell, was such a lovely character, and how I wished I could meet someone like him who would show me all the creatures I longed to see. If anyone remembers this book, please let me know the title.

We are so paranoid these days that I had to stop an girl elf in The Divide going off with a grown up male pixie. In the end I solved it by inventing a magic card which showed her location at all times.

“Well,” said Squill, “I came to Tiratattle for an interview, and I’m delighted to say that I am now in charge of an advertising department. I’ve been looking for a face to launch our latest products, and Agrimony fits admirably. She’ll be famous, and she’ll earn a lot of money.”

Agrimony had gone quite dewy-eyed.

“She’ll need to be kitted out differently, of course – jade is the green of the moment in Tiratattle, and I can just see her – jade tunic, jade trousers – maybe even a touch of lime here and there.”

Tansy scowled. “Is this some sort of practical joke?”

“No,” said Squill. “I never mix business with practical jokes.”

“What do I need to do?” asked Agrimony.

“Simply come with me,” said Squill. He glanced at Tansy. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll return her this evening. Where are you staying?”

“Dozover,” said Agrimony, making a face.

Squill smiled. “Here,” he said to Tansy, “take my business card. Give her to me for the day, and we’ll talk again this evening.”

Tansy scrutinised the card. It was a state-of-the-art magical one, and showed where the owner was at any given moment. Squill was based at the conference centre, she’d be able to find him with no difficulty. And dragging a reluctant Agrimony round Tiratattle was slowing her down. “All right,” she said.

 The Victorians were rather less wildlife friendly, and the hedgehogs on the croquet lawn in Alice in Wonderland had a tough time of it. Possibly the flamingos had an even worse time, batting the prickly rolled-up hedgehogs around with their heads. Having now watched how easily a hedgehog is rolled around by another one, I feel far more sorry for the flamingos!

I suppose all of this is an excuse for boasting about my hedgehogs. But really, as demonstrated by the latest Attenborough programme, we do still have a lot of excellent wildlife in the UK, and you don't have to use lions and tigers and bears to make a children's book exciting. The story of The Little Mole Who Knew it was None of His Business springs to mind...