Wild Hogs

Liz here:

I bring to you today POSSIBLY THE MOST EXCITING NEWS YOU HAVE HEARD THIS WEEK:

THERE IS A WILD HEDGEHOG LIVING OUTSIDE OF OUR APARTMENT.

Everyone’s been saying they have wild hedgehogs here. I’ve heard tales of hog sightings outside people’s front doors, or crossing the road, or hiding in hedges. But I certainly hadn’t seen one, and frankly, I was beginning to suspect it was a fantastical myth.

(Quick note to those of you reading this who don’t know me that well: I LOVE hedgehogs. I have one, at home – a wee little guy named Pippo who is ridiculously adorable. I find their snorts and spikes nothing but endearing. So, lemme tell you – a country where they roam the streets is a country I have a fondness for.)

So just as the reality of them roaming the streets was becoming doubtful, last night as I was falling asleep I heard a familiar snuffling and snorting outside the window. Something was huffing, puffing, moving around in the shrubbery. “Oh my god, it’s a hedgehog,” I whispered in delight, and immediately got up to find my headlamp and an old, empty fuel bottle. I put on the light and leaned out the window, dropping the bottle into the middle of the bushes.

I expected the little guy to come running out, but all that happened was that the night went silent. I peered around, shining the light as far as it would reach – but nothing. Still, I KNEW. There was a hedgehog right outside.

This morning, in the bright light of day, I went on a reconnaissance mission. Sure enough, in the shrubby bushes under my window, I found him. A fat, spiky, brown and white hedgehog asleep in a handmade leafy nest. I was fantastically delighted. Within minutes I’d brought out all of my housemates to take a look. They suggested scooping him up and keeping him as a pet in a bucket, but I prefer to think of him out there in the wild, eating bugs and going exploring right outside as I sleep peacefully, just meters away.

All of a sudden I like New Zealand just a little bit more.