THE HEDGEHOG.
This, though a rough and prickly customer to handle, is a clean little animal, and a great pet with country boys. If you have ever seen one—and they are commonly sold at the shops kept by men who call themselves bird-fanciers, or even hawked about the streets of London by countrymen—if you have seen one, you are aware that, saving the belly, they are covered with sharp spikes, and that when alarmed, or whenever they please, they have the power of rolling themselves up into a tight round ball, which shows nothing but spikes, and may be rolled along, like a cricket-ball, without causing the little animal to uncoil itself, while every spike is firm and erect as a needle, and almost as sharp. While in this shape very few dogs can worry the hedgehog; and as for the fox, who is rather partial to him, true to his wily nature, he rolls the poor hedgehog along with his paws until he comes to a pool of water, when the hedgehog unrolls himself, exclaiming, no doubt, “Hey! why, what’s this? I can’t breathe!” and trying to peep about and see what’s the matter, the fox, on the look-out, seizes him by the belly, and eats him all up, saving the spines. Were you to thrust a dozen pins with large heads through a piece of parchment, you would have an exact representation of the spines of the hedgehog, every one of which is retained inside the skin by the large pin-like head.
Some say that it sucks the cows, and draws off their milk; but this is absurd, as its mouth is not adapted for sucking. Its favourite food are insects and snails: it also feeds on frogs and mice, and will even kill a snake, and eat it all up, beginning at the tail. The way it kills a snake is very curious. It gives the snake a bite on the back, then rolls itself up like a ball, remaining still as a stone for some time, while the snake lashes and writhes about in agony; as soon as the snake is a little quiet the hedgehog gives him another sharp bite on the spine, and so continues until the snake is killed; then he begins at the tail, as the Rev. J. G. Wood tells us in his “Illustrated Natural History,” and eats him up “as one would a radish.” In a natural state it sleeps all the winter, rolled up in a hole which it has filled with grass, moss, or leaves; and when domesticated, it will hide itself in some dark corner for weeks, and never once make its appearance, unless it chances to awake and feel hungry; then some day you will see it come creeping towards the fire, and be very glad to see it too. Hedgehogs are great destroyers of beetles, eating them up as quickly as you would a handful of raisins, and seeming fond of them. They need no looking after at all, but will take care of themselves, though it is as well to have a little hutch to put them into now and then. Their feeding-time is in the night; and if there are black-beetles in the kitchen, the best plan is to leave the hedgehog there, and let him devour all he can catch. They have four or five young ones at a litter, which are born blind. It is no uncommon sight to see a countryman with both old and young ones to sell. You can buy a young hedgehog for sixpence, and an old one for a shilling, or less than that even. We know of no animal that is less trouble to keep, and in time it becomes so tame as to come out of its hiding-place when called.