WILDLIFE
When former newspaper editor Sarah Sands rescues a sick hedgehog, her life of diplomatic dinners and crisis summits is turned upside down
Iam at a diplomatic dinner at the Athenaeum Club, in Pall Mall, London, discussing the Ukraine crisis. A former secretary general of Nato talks of the delicate balance between strength and diplomacy and the importance of a united front. A text pings on my phone. It is about Peggy, our sick hedgehog. Emma at the hedgehog hospital says that she is ready to be returned to the wild. It has to be tomorrow night. I can fetch her from the hospital in a box. “Have you got a hedgehog house to release her into or a nice big log pile?”
I text back weakly under the table that the following evening is tricky. I am busy with appointments and wonder if we could wait until the weekend. The response is immediate: “Oh no! Let me check temps. Release window ideally tomorrow as gives time to settle for two days.”
I cannot argue with ideal conditions for survival. I clear my diary and the following morning drive to Norfolk. Luckily, I remember that our younger son had bought us a fine mossy hog house, which we hid by the beech trees alongside the hawthorn hedge. I can’t wait to tell Emma, whom I wish to please.
A HOUSE FIT FOR A HEDGEHOG
The weather forecast is for two major incoming storms and dark clouds collapse over the Norfolk fenland. Lorries on the M11 stir up waves of water from the road. The cars look as if they are driving through dry ice. The River Wissey spills over the reeds and rushes, forming pools of water across the fields. The smaller roads are awash with water. The spray slaps the front windscreen. It is satisfying for the ten-year-old in all of us.
I stop for cat biscuits, frowning over the choices and packaging. And then I am home and clearing the hog house for its new resident. It is really so smart and substantial I cannot understood why it has been empty for so long. I send a picture on my phone to Emma with the caption: Peggy’s home is ready! The response is doubtful. “Has that house got wire inside? Sorry to be a pain but if so, it’s unsuitable as they catch their feet on them. Have u got a wooden one? Or you can just build a wooden one.” I have a couple of goes at building a den from branches and leaves and my spirits lift when I get Emma’s approval. I remind myself to think of the species rather than individuals but the truth is that Peggy is coming home.
WELCOME TO ANIMAL A&E
I put out the kitten biscuits and water by the new deluxe branch den and tear up rather superior pages from my husband’s edition of British Journalism Review. The only box I can find with a lid once contained Coca-Cola cans, which somehow seems bad brand advertising for a protected British species but it is too late to look for anything else. I set off towards King’s Lynn at 4.3
