Fiction β invented for fun
Hedgehog Completes Census of One Garden
Four nights of fieldwork, one garden, and a final count of every slug, step and gap under the fence, published in full to an audience of nobody.
A hedgehog has completed what it describes as a full and final census of a single back garden, following four nights of continuous fieldwork carried out almost entirely at ankle height. The results were read aloud late on Friday from a low wooden box under a streetlamp at the end of the lane, from a list so long it had to be unrolled across the pavement. The audience consisted of nobody, which the hedgehog says it had anticipated and does not take personally.
The published figures cover the whole plot. Two hundred and eleven slugs, of which forty-one were assessed as promising. Nine gaps under the fence, of which two are usable and one is described as aspirational. One patch of decking noted in the report as loud. Three flowerpots, one of them lying on its side and classified as accommodation. The compost heap has been recorded as a region rather than a feature, and it appears in the report under a heading of its own.
The methodology has been questioned. The hedgehog counted only after dark, moved slowly and admits to having surveyed the flower bed three separate times without recognising it, which it describes as a limitation of the survey and not of the surveyor. The household cat, approached for comment, was recorded in the census as an obstruction. A frog near the pond asked to be counted twice, on the grounds that it had moved, and was told that this is not how censuses work.
The hedgehog has confirmed that the work is complete and will not be repeated. It then set off along exactly the same route shortly after eleven, on the grounds that conditions had changed, the slugs had moved and a garden census is only ever true for a single night anyway. A second volume is expected. The household, who did not know they were being surveyed, have asked for a copy and been told there is only one, and that it is currently rolled up under a hedge.
Behind the joke is a familiar night-time visitor. Hedgehogs roam through gardens after dark, snuffling along lawns and borders in search of food, and many travel through several gardens in a single night. That is why gaps under fences matter so much to them: a small hole between neighbouring plots lets a hedgehog move freely from one garden to the next instead of being trapped behind a solid wall. A garden with log piles, leaf litter and a few wild corners gives them plenty to explore.
So if you would like to be included in next yearβs census, there are simple ways to make your garden count. Leave a small gap at the bottom of a fence, keep one corner a little untidy, and check long grass before mowing. Then, on a quiet evening, turn off the lights and watch the lawn. You might just catch a small, round surveyor at work, counting everything very carefully, and quite happy to go round again tomorrow night.