Furzy Pig Rescue!

This time it was a hedgehog, on absurdly long legs, running across the lane at Orcop, chased by two carrion crows, baying for blood. It was a valiant creature, only three inches or so long and a perfect miniature of Mrs Tiggy Winkle. It ran for its life, and being outnumbered and considerably outsized was athletic and impressive in its efforts. I stopped the camper, noted the exact position of the hedge hog on the road and and picked up the little brown ball of pins, carefully. I phoned my friend Hugh Warwick, who has had lifelong love of the prickly fellows, and recently published The Hedghog Dilemma. We debated its chances.  

The road was in a kind of trench, the ground height being above the tarmac by about three foot. The hedge towered above us, another eight foot, thick and inpenetrable. Beyond was a field of grasses, in full bloom, hayfever central. I nosed around, looking for mum and nest, or siblings, seeking beneedled creatures in a living haystack.

I had a choice, release the baby hedgehog on one side of the road or the other, hoping it would be reunited with mum, or 'rescue' it, a difficult option because always, always, animals are better at being mummy's to their offspring than humans are. I called too, the Wildlife Hospital at Gloucester. Something was wrong for this little hog to be wandering the by ways of Britain in board daylight. Between us, and between moving the car out of the way of irritated drivers, we made the executive decision that her best chances of survival were in my care.

 So nestled in my airing cupboard is another ancient creature of the night to add to my collection. Hope, as the children have named her, has been checked over by Maureen. local hedgehog rehabilitation expert from Ross-on-Wye, and is in good health. She goes from strength to strength eating Hill's Science Diet cat food, a luxury meat mousse which she laps fervently with her long tongue. In between meals, she sleeps tucked up in a fleece bedding.

 Hedgehogs are officially the cutest animals in the world.

Sasha x

Athene: gleaming eyed Goddess of the night

Its 4am and Athene will be waiting for me. She will have been there  all night, sitting bolt upright, eyes staring. She doesn’t speak, or make any sound, but she hears everything, like it’s amplified through festival speakers. I am her mother  and she is a beautiful, but strange child. She is waiting for her meal of raw meat, which she will swallow without chewing. She rise up in a dance of defense when I go to her, threatening to  attack. In case you haven’t guessed, Athene, is an owl.

I received a call last Monday morning for my local vet. They had a tawny owl chick in the surgery, and could I please collect and care for it. I have been mum to, among many others, lambs, and puppies, humans and  jackdaws, mice and even ants. I have not had the privilege of looking after an owl. I found the prospect slightly daunting. Athene however, trusted me, and gazing up with her enormous inquisitive eyes, gladly ate the meal I offered her of chopped up day old chicken meat. Ten days on, I can report she is probably the best behaved baby I have had.

Her wings are growing, she is learning to fly, and one day soon she will return to the wild..

Owls are much better at being parents to baby owls than I am. I am a diligent and loving adoptive , mum but her own mum would have known how to hunt mice, where to look for the best prey, the flight paths through the woods,  how to climb up a vertical tree trunk, using your wings and talons and crucially when to sleep.

I feed Athene very early in the morning and late at night and sometimes during the day. When I feed her in daylight hours, she is full of sleep, her huge brown eyes blinking at me. At night she is alert and ready for action, but we are all out for the count. It must be hard being an owl baby in a human family.

One problem that can make life difficult for tawny owl families and increase the risk of chicks finding themselves on the ground, is lack of suitable nest sites. Grandfather trees with wide trunks with hollow interiors are rare. So, after making ten nest boxes for smaller birds early this year, Salvador (aged six) and uncle David are going into production making owl nest boxes. Whatever fate befalls Athene when she leaves us for the wild night, she won’t be short of a suitable home to raise her chicks, when the time comes.

It is against the law to keep a tawny owl chick unless you intend to release it. It is also illegal to do anything to that chick that may hinder its release to the wild. That of course would include taming her too much.  It’s a fine line between leaving her alone so that she doesn’t habituate to humans and giving her some company and stimulation so that she doesn’t become bored. So it’s a relief that Athene is not scared by my presence and will happily eat her dinners, but maintains a healthy disdain for being picked up or bothered. She clacks her beak which when she arrived all fluffy and hunched over seemed a little pitiful as a defence, but now she is bigger and sat on her perch she is more menacing. She also extends out her wings and dances from side to side if she feels really threatened, which is an impressive sight. She is in a way, both baby and heroine, frightened sometimes and also a little frightening with her huge staring eyes, powerful talons and that confidence only true predators hold.

I look forward to the day when Athene will fly free into the woods surrounding our home. Until then I will go to her in the early hours, called by her gleaming eyes and fluffy head. With her intelligence and courage Athene has won our hearts and admiration. She is well-named.

Also this week, Phoebe, our sheep, who we raised from an orphaned lamb into a fine ewe has become a mummy.... but that is another story, soon to be told.

Sasha x