The hedgehog

There are things that cannot change, for they are not meant to. Sometimes, when I am visiting my homeland, I get an odd feeling back, one that is surprisingly alike to what I felt when I was a child. Or maybe not so surprising, since I'm talking about my homeland, the forsaken piece of land where I was born and grew up. Forsaken it might be, but it is still mine. The hedgehog made me remember a time lost in memory, one that only a few of my current friends still remember: a time when my playground had no boundaries, it would stretch as long as the country-roads would go and my energy to walk or ride a bike would last. A time when I spent countless hours out in the countryside, among brooks and trees, from flood-valleys to the top of the hills, what we have for mountains there. A time when my natural playtime companions were animals, but not pets: aside from my turtle, I never had a pet. My companions were wild animals (my turtle is a domesticated wild turtle, mind you): toads and frogs, water snakes and lizards, bats and hedgehogs. These two were uncommon though, for they were hard to get, while the others weren't. But they were there as well. Not to mention birds, all kinds of birds. Owls were the most interesting though, but seeing them required going out at night: or find a hideout. I found one once, in an ambandoned warehouse near my village. I broke through the door to cover myself from the raid and startled a huge female owl, gray and regal. Concerning the others, snakes, toads and frogs were easy to get in the brooks. I remember catching one of those green small green poisonous frogs and sticking it to my forehead. Lizards were easy to get anywhere, sometimes even at home. Bats were taken from the church's bell tower. I remember me and my friend catching one using my woolen jacket as a net - it was so cute, a naked mouse with wings. I remember hedgehogs now and then, but these were rare. I have a vague memory of my friend's grandfather finding two hedgehogs near his donkey, and bringing them in a bucket so we could see and touch them. And all this came back to me when I saw that hedgehog on the sidewalk in the middle of the night, gathering courage to cross the road. I halted and watch it: it was huge, like no one I had ever seen, an enormous mass of sharp spines. I felt the same urge I always felt as a child whenever I saw a wild animal: go and touch it. And I also felt I had to do something, for it risked being killed by some car if it tried to cross the road. So I startet to gently pat the hedgehog, feeling its spines, slowy patting towards his belly where there was no spines. At last I felt it with the tip of my fingers, the spines giving way to a very soft fur, and I lifted the hedgehog. It didn't resist, or curled to turn into a ball of spikes, their favourite defense: it let me grab it, lift it and carry it to the other side of the road, where I gently placed it on the grass. Then he curled, at last, but it was safe.

It's been ages since I had seen such an animal. And I can tell you it's one of the cutest animals that can be found in my homeland.