#52weeksofnaturepoetry, Poetry

How Do, Mr Hedgehog? – Week 45 #52weeksofnaturepoetry (Raising money for RSPB)

Snuffling under a weeping hedge

(locals swear, each year, the council

trims it an extra inch or two),

a hedgehog emerges.

Spines pointiest of points, fur dusty brown.

His nose leads him onto a path

of tantalising, fat slugs,

glistening under lamplight;

perfect for a late-night bite to eat.

A single course in, raucous laughter snaps

across the evening air.

Hooting, shrieking, yowling two-leggers

stumbling ever closer.

Back into shadow he goes,

black-pearl eyes

reflecting flapping laces and muddy soles.


An empty bottle hurtles

under the hedge,

lodging in the gap of a broken fence;

on the other side, a cosy stack of wood.

Tempting hideaway,

but not for him, not again.

Once, fumbling hands jostled and upset the stack,

woke him, sent him scurrying.

Lucky they did, for each branch

he’d nestled between

later blackened and popped,

licked by orange tongues

encouraged by cheers and whoops.


A pungent, delightful odour.

Next garden up, behind a tiny archway

(his size, no less).

He steps through into the dampening hush

of gangly grass,

sending a myriad of nocturnal insects

up to the moon.

No clunky boots or sudden staggers

to mind here;

free to venture to the odour’s source:

bowls of cooked potato, mealworms, crushed nuts,

sunflower hearts.

Not often does he find a banquet

for main course.

This poem is part of a project I’m doing to raise money for the RSPB, a UK wildlife conservation and protection charity. If you’d like to help, please share this poem to encourage others to take joy in nature, and if you have the time and means to donate, you can do so here. Let’s help keep our wildlife wild!