The Potato Snaffler

I was enjoying a lovely hot bubble bath last night when I heard a strange noise from the back garden. Initially I ignored it, assuming that it was the neighbour's dog over the back. When the strange squeaking sound came again, I paid more attention. I climbed out of the bath, grabbed a towel and peered out of the bathroom window. I couldn't see anything, which isn't surprising since I wasn't wearing my glasses and was trying to see through obscured glass. Realising my lack of visual effectiveness, I wandered in to the eldest's bedroom to gaze down upon the Palace. All looked well.

Just as I was about to head back to the bath, the sound came again. A rapid succession of squeaky yelps. They were definitely not coming from the garden to the rear. These sounds were much closer. my heart sank. These had to be the sounds of a young fox. Taking the stairs three at a time, I legged it past the ever tolerant husband, garbbed a torch from the kitchen and flung open the back door. There was no more squeaky yelping, but I could now hear scrabbling from near the Palace.

This is it, I thought. The local fox population has finally cottoned on to the walking buffet in my back garden. My girls will never be able to free range again, and at some point the wiley creatures will get lucky. I will one day have to face the aftermath of a fox attack. Every chicken keeper knows that this might happen, but I couldn't believe just how devastated I felt by the possibility that it was happening now.

I shone the torch all around the Palace, expecting at any minute to see a fox attempting to chew it's way in to the run. Seeing nothing, I widened my search. The (rather pathetic) beam of light skipped over the children's football, the chooks treat bowl and an old brown shoe. Hang on. An old brown shoe? I homed in on this stray footwear for a closer look.

The shoe was eating a roast potato. Because it wasn't a shoe. It was the biggest, fattest hedgehog I have ever seen. And it was squeaking with joy at having found a stray piece of spud that I'd given the hens after dinner. It momentarily stopped stuffing it's chubby hedgehog cheeks to watch me thoughtfully. Deciding that I wasn't going to try and steal it's prize, it went back to chowing down.

We watched the hedgehog finish it's meal, and then wander about the garden looking for more. Coming up short, it mooched over to the bird bath for a drink, then wombled off under the rhododendron. It was a delightful encounter, and it was good to see Mr. Hedgehog carrying a few extra ounces as he prepares for hibernation. I checked on the hens, and found all but ASBO Chicken snoozing, oblivious.

I wonder if Maeve sensed the spud stealing intruder.

An Early Morning Visitor

Several times this summer, we have awakened at around 6am to the sound of Doris bokking a warning. On investigation, nothing is ever found for these random early morning alarms. She generally greets our grumpy shushing with disgust, and struts back into the coop muttering. This morning, I think we've gotten to the bottom of it all.

The children woke us up just before seven with excited chattering about a hedgehog in the paddling pool. Fearing the worst, I dragged myself over to the window to find said hedgehog doing a bad French mime impression against the smooth plastic sides of the pool. Luckily, the pool is on a slope and only half full. The poor spiky critter must have wandered in for a drink, and then became trapped.

Wandering outside in my dressing gown, I flattened down one side of the pool and held it in place with a stray tennis racket. The hedgehog played dead, and spiked up, much to the kids' amusement. The ever tolerant husband attempted to get some photographic evidence of the spectacle, but the hedgehog was very camera shy. It just looks like a picture of a conker.

The girls watched all this activity by the pool with interest, and in silence. I retreated back to the house to watch and see where our little visitor would go. After a few minutes, it decided it was safe to uncurl. It snuffled around for a bit, then wombled it's way over the edge of the pool and into the shrubbery by the cherry tree. At this point, it became visible to Doris. Instantly, she set about shouting her head off, puffing her chest out and generally strutting around the run. The others all looked at her for a moment, then went back to bed.

And to think I was worried that our visitor might have been a fox.