Last week, I arrived home after dark in company with my first-born changeling (a girl-child of some nine summers) , and as we pulled through a herbaceous border and onto the lawn she perked up and said "Look! A hedgehog!". And indeed, ambling amiably past our front step and into the drive at the side of our domicile was a rather small hedgehog. My daughter, animal-mad as ever, insisted on putting food out for it; though to be honest I'd probably have fed it even had I been alone.
Since then 'feeding the hedgehog' has become a nightly task. Last night we arrived home later than usual and I stepped outside the back door to pick up the saucer from its dark, cat-proof corner and rammed my fingers into something unexpectedly prickly. Yes - our small visitor had arrived for its evening snack and - finding the saucer empty - had opted to curl up on the saucer and wait.