Full of good intentions for the forthcoming spring, I was cleaning up the clusters of autumnal leaves from around the back of the house. As I did so, I looked down into an open shore and astonishingly, I saw two dark eyes peeping back at me. I got a flashlamp and shone it down and this time I could see a small twitching nose and two little claws, surrounded by a crown of thorns.

A hedgehog had fallen down and I put on a pair of thick gloves to carefully lift the little ball of prickles from the tight confines. As I held it in my hands, the hedgehog remained in its curled-up ball with only its little face visible and I had a rare moment to admire and appreciate this wonderful animal.

In Irish the hedgehog is gráinneog, which translates as the ‘little ugly one’, but as we looked into each other’s eyes, I could see nothing but a little animal of great beauty and dignity.

The small wandering hedgehogs spend their summer and autumn months gleaning the hedgerows for slugs, spiders, earwigs, earthworms and caterpillars, along with berries to build up their weight. They have been seen to eat the birds’ eggs that fall from nests in the trees above.

They are nocturnal and usually forage at night and are particularly fond of strawberries. For their small size, they are relatively heavy with an adult weighing around one kilogramme and this girth allows them to survive in a torpid state over the harsh winter months with its meagre food stocks.

Waddling

The slow waddling hedgehog appears in several folktales where the hare, confident of her great speed, challenges the hedgehog to a race. The race takes place in a field of potatoes but there are two hedgehogs, one at each end of the drills. The hare speeds off and instead of running, the first hedgehog simply hides itself in the stalks.

When the hare reaches the end of the field, the second hedgehog is there before it and it looks like it won the race. The hare is incensed and looks for another race and each time the hedgehog is there at the end of the drill before it and so it continued until the hare dropped down from exhaustion.

There is also a long-held belief that the hedgehog is able to climb apple trees, shake the apples and gather them with its spine.

It was considered very bad luck to hurt or kick a hedgehog as it first used its apple-gathering ability for the Virgin Mary when she was thirsty. Equally, its coat of sharp spines was said to come from Christ’s crown of thorns, whence it took them and placed them on its own back.

There is also a long-held belief that the hedgehog is able to climb apple trees, shake the apples and gather them with its spine

Despite such protections there are many accounts of hedgehogs being eaten, usually as a type of medicine for specific ailments. The hedgehogs were skinned and boiled to make a soup that was considered a sure cure for whooping cough. Its meat and broth were to be consumed in three portions. It was prescribed also when there was weakness accompanied by shivering and shaking.

The fat and grease from a fried or boiled hedgehog was rubbed into patches of eczema and also used to ease aching rheumatic joints and limbs.

A few drops poured into the ear was effective in loosening wax that was causing deafness and causing earache. The jaw of a hedgehog, rubbed against the jaw of a person with toothache, was thought to ease pain, while pulling out three spines from a live hedgehog with one’s own teeth was supposed to bring instant relief.

Rejoice

In the first week of spring, following St Brigid’s Day, as the weather improves, the hedgehog re-emerges from its winter slumber and continues its rummaging

for food. This is the Irish phenomenon that equates with the tradition of Groundhog Day, now synonymous with Punxsutawney Phil in Pennsylvania in the USA.

My little hedgehog encounter has me determined to rejoice in the fact that our hibernation period is over, and we have all made it through to the new light and the new year of growth.

I am determined to celebrate – not groundhog – but our very own Lá an Ghráinneog Hedgehog Day on 2 February.

Shane Lehane is a folklorist who works in UCC and Cork College of FET, Tramore Road Campus. Contact: slehane@ucc.ie