Elegy for Hedgehog

It’s an honour for me to say a few words about our dear departed friend – Hedgehog.

Hedgehog was born and raised in the birch wood and that was where he found peace and contentment all his life. He only came out of the wood at night and he was shy as he went about the wide world – if any creature came near him, he used to roll himself up into a tight ball. 

He was embarrassed by his name – ‘Hedgehog’. It always reminded him that humanity despised him. As we all know, hedgehogs are liable to steal and eat birds’ eggs and I expect that Hedgehog was not innocent of this crime – but let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Hedgehog never paid attention to lofty things, or things that were too marvellous for him. Some said that he had never known true love. But it’s the truth that he believed deeply, and painfully, that he simply wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t worthy of love. Was that something he learnt at his mother’s knee? 

He had a round and pleasing shape, something like a little hillock, but no great muscle bulk. It was his heart’s desire to fly like the birds – he was fascinated by them – but, as you would understand, that was only a dream. 

He wasn’t hot-tempered. He wasn’t good at fighting. When he came under attack, he placed his trust in his spines but, in the end of the day, they weren’t much use to him. 

Like all hedgehogs, he had a keen sense of smell, but his vision and hearing were poor. And what happened to Hedgehog was like what had happened to many of his kin on countless occasions across the world – he didn’t have enough time to escape when he realised that the headlights of the car were coming towards him. 

Dear friends, let us bow our heads and remember him.