The Hedgehog's Dilemma
Page 10
I was pleased. Pat Morris, who had helped guide that project, was pleased. Most of the losses were due to factors that seemed unrelated to the translocation, there was no evidence of the predicted curl up and die behaviour, most of them put on weight and even the wild hedgehogs we caught seemed to be putting on weight as well. But would it stand up to the scrutiny of our peers. The peer-review process is vital, other academics, referees, getting a chance to peer at scientific papers before they are published.
It took a little time to reach publication, not helped by being messed around by one journal that turned out to have links with a principal proponent of the cull. But eventually Lutra took the paper on board and published it in early 2007, precipitating a chain of events that rapidly resulted in a complete transformation in the fate of the Uist hedgehogs.
The rescuers had long recognized that they could not go head to head with SNH; there was too much baggage from the early part of the campaign, especially the decision to describe UHR as animal rights militants. This made it almost impossible for the board of SNH to accede to any demands for fear of creating an apparent precedent of conceding to extremists.
So we did not focus our pressure on SNH. Using a tactic that I am sure is detailed in Sun Tzu’s Art of War, we looked for the weak link. SNH would not be able to cull without the support of the SSPCA. We knew that, privately, the SSPCA wanted to distance themselves from the cull, despite initial support, but needed new evidence to make the change in policy. And we had that, published in a peer-reviewed scientific journal, so SSPCA withdrew their support, leaving SNH in an impossible position.
The case for the defence was further improved when Stephen Harris published his data, supporting our argument. And then Digger Jackson returned to the fray and argued that the total population of hedgehogs was actually just 3,000, less than half his original prediction – and this following seven years of reproduction. What on earth was going on here? It really felt as if the entire SNH policy was based on a series of staggeringly erroneous assumptions – resulting in the unnecessary execution of 658 hedgehogs.
Very quickly, the press picked up on the story, and then we got the exciting news we had hoped for; SNH were going to reconsider their position.
This might seem like a complete volte-face, but it is what some of SNH had been yearning for. Meeting a senior scientist at a conference, it became evident that she wanted shot of the cull as much as the rescuers did. She was livid that the situation had taken so long to resolve, and in particular she was upset that unsubstantiated claims had been made by the PR department as to the expected fate of translocated hedgehogs. She had asked them not to claim they would suffer slow and lingering deaths.
But as soon as the claims about this and the allegedly unsavoury nature of the rescuers were made, SNH was in a fix. And it took us to bail them out. Not only had we managed to get the cull stopped, but in 2007 and 2008 SNH actually worked with UHR to relocate live animals from the islands. So begins a new chapter of cooperation.
This still leaves the question of whether the birds will benefit. It feels that everyone has forgotten about the reason for removing the hedgehogs, concentrating instead on the method of removal. Was it even the hedgehogs that were responsible? Why were there similar declines in bird numbers on neighbouring islands that lack hedgehogs? Has global warming had an impact on chick survival by affecting the amount of food available for the parents?
Can hedgehogs and birds ever get along? Obviously they have been at this game for far longer than we have been interfering. But we have altered the environment in such a way as to make any impact of hedgehogs all the more serious. I would argue that even if there are conflicts, as we have seen here, hedgehogs should be given a fair hearing. It may be that they are not the sole causes of any local difficulties or it may be that they do need to be removed. And if that is the case it is vital that we do not just think about welfare, but also about rights.
Hedgehogs arouse passion. It is not always affectionate, but there is something in the manner of the hedgehog that can win people over, even when they are fully aware of the damage that the hogs might cause. Is this a purely British thing? Do we have a nostalgic passion for the animal that harks back to a time when, we imagine, everyone was a bit more like a hedgehog? Busy, industrious, honest and kind; rather like Mrs Tiggy-Winkle. Is our reaction to hedgehogs entirely down to Beatrix Potter?
Of course, the answer is a little more complicated than just being the result of that wonderful woman. There are deep reasons why hedgehogs are such a popular animal.
And is there a way to study hedgehogs and yet avoid a depressing lack of social life? On North Ronaldsay I would find myself confronted with the sound of the seal being broken on a bottle of whisky, accompanied by, ‘You’ll stay for a small one?’ I did try it, but a mist of spirit does not help in the hunt for hedgehogs.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Hedgehogs
and
People
Manifestations of hedgehog love are manifold.
I think it is becoming quite clear that it is impossible to have a purely ‘natural’ history of hedgehogs, at least with me at the helm. Hedgehogs and people are inextricably linked; it is not just me who has been seduced. Hundreds, possibly thousands of people are active hedgehog carers, taking sick and injured animals in and patching them up for release. In fact, if it were not for them, I would not have been required to get quite so up-close personal with Nigel and his colleagues – and then what would have become of me?
Take a look around your area and the chances are high that there will be a hedgehog carer nearby. A seemingly marginal activity is actually quite an industry. This is not a new phenomenon. There have always been people who will take pity on a lame or stranded animal, and nurse it back to health before setting it free. But it was always an amateur activity – fairly random and hardly organized. So how has it come to the point that there are 600 carers registered with the British Hedgehog Preservation Society?
St Tiggywinkles Wildlife Hospital in Buckinghamshire claims to be the first and busiest wildlife hospital in the world. Established in 1985 by Les Stocker, it now treats over 10,000 animals each year, the majority of which, and the clue is in the name, are hedgehogs. Though I do wonder whether they ran the name past the Vatican . . . can we beatify at will?
Since then amazing progress has been made; perhaps there is divine oversight after all. Stocker started with a few cardboard boxes and now has an outfit of gleaming steel and uniformed staff bringing in around £1 million each year. But when I went to see him in early January 2008, he was muttering. There were over 500 hedgehogs in residence and he wanted to see the back of them. These were mostly ‘autumn orphans’ – and as soon as the weather perked up a bit, they would be out in the wild – scattered around the gardens of suburbia. But for now they were just being demanding – of space and time. Racks of cages of hedgehogs, pretty much from floor to ceiling, dominated the convalescence wing.
As he took me round the hospital, he showed me into an operating theatre that was far better equipped than those in many developing countries for people. On the table was an unconscious badger having root canal surgery.
This is top-of-the-range stuff and most places I have visited are not as well catered for. But my unscientific survey of wildlife carers around the country has led me to the conclusion that there are two breeds. There are those like Stocker and his gang who are generalists and take in pretty much any indigenous (and sometimes not so indigenous) beast. And then there are the hedgehog carers, who are, clearly, rather more specific.
And I find that rather fascinating. There are hundreds of people out there who obviously love wildlife, but have dedicated their energies to just one species. Hedgehogs really do attract a different level of attention from any other animal. The very fact that there is a ‘Preservation Society’ (is it just me, or does this sound a little like somewhere to make jam?) is a case in point. It was set up in 1982 by a r
etired major, Adrian Coles, who had been bothered by sight of dead hedgehogs in cattle grids, so he launched a campaign to insert ramps and that kick-started the BHPS into life.
There are other animal groups, badger trusts, bat clubs and myriad birding organizations – but they are all rather removed from their subject. I have not found exclusive badger hospitals, otter pharmacies or peregrine physiotherapists.
And if proof were needed of the human–hedgehog relationship, before heading back to help with the badger, Stocker took me to his Hedgehog Museum. Here was clear evidence of a fascination with hedgehogs stretching back thousands of years.
Even before the ancient Egyptians produced scaraboid amulets in hedgehog form, the Mesopotamians were at it. I am sure that hibernation was key to the interest. In civilizations that believed in reincarnation an animal that apparently died each winter only to emerge, reborn, the following spring was going to attract attention. So hedgehog fascination has considerable pedigree.
The museum catalogues just about every conceivable use – and, I have to say, quite a few inconceivable ones – of the hedgehog, or the hedgehog’s name, throughout history. From battle formations and tank defences to bottle racks and hairstyles, the hedgehog is everywhere.
Some of the most profound philosophy has sprung from hedgehogs – well, maybe not them personally, but certainly on their behalf. The earliest evidence of this comes from the ancient Greek poet and warrior Archilochus. Fragments of his work have been found and include a wonderful insight into life, mediated via an understanding of hedgehogs:
This has been interpreted, with subtle differences, on many occasions, but the essence is ‘The fox knows many things, the hedgehog knows one big thing.’ Another version is ‘A fox knows many things, but the hedgehog only one: one good one.’ I think my favourite is the version that has drifted into an Arabic proverb: ‘One knavery of the hedgehog is worth more than many of the fox.’
While the simple interpretation of this is that the prickly ball of a hedgehog flummoxes the wily fox, the idea has taken wings and developed a life, and philosophy, all of its own.
That can be laid at the door of Isaiah Berlin, whose 1953 essay ‘The Hedgehog and the Fox’ has spawned many other ideas. Berlin argues that while this observation from Archilochus could simply be applied to the behaviour of two species, ‘the words can be made to yield a sense in which they mark one of the deepest differences which divide writers and thinkers, and, it may be, human beings in general’.
Our little hedgehog is developed as a metaphor to encompass great thinkers ‘who relate everything to a single central vision . . .’ I love the way that Berlin is able to run off a list of writers and define them with such a broad sweep of his intellectual brush. ‘Plato, Lucretius, Pascal, Hegel, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche, Aristotle, Ibsen, Proust are, in varying degrees hedgehogs . . .’ The foxes include the likes of Shakespeare, Goethe and Joyce.
There is a business book called Good to Great that has a chapter dedicated to ‘The Hedgehog Concept’. The author, Jim Collins, took the Berlin idea and argued that hedgehogs simplify a complex world into a single amazing idea.
Those who built the good-to-great companies were, to one degree or another, hedgehogs. They used their hedgehog nature to drive forward what we came to call a hedgehog concept for their companies. Those who led the comparison companies tended to be foxes, never gaining the clarifying advantage of a Hedgehog Concept, being instead scattered, diffused and inconsistent.
A psychologist developed a ‘hedgehog theory of behaviour’. In one book there is a chapter entitled ‘The Concept of Arousal in the Hedgehog’, which is almost worth buying the book for alone. Having had a look at it, though, I can imagine some very disappointed hedgehogs in the hedgerow cyber café, searching for online thrills and being confronted with important statements such as, ‘The fox has more solutions than they have problems.’
My favourite aphorism is simple, though: clever foxes and wise hedgehogs.
And it is a wise hedgehog who finds a way to get taken in by Caroline Gould at Vale Wildlife Rescue in Gloucestershire. Caroline Gould caters for all sorts. As I walked through the hospital on my way to meet her I passed snakes, turtles, rabbits and little owls. The foxes skulked at the back of their enclosure – adolescents ready for release – but the buzzard was tame, resident and very beautiful.
The wildest animal was, thankfully, locked away. The hospital has been broken into a few times, but not since Fluffy took over security. He is left to roam the corridors at night and is one of the obstacles that any new member of staff has to overcome. If you can work with Fluffy even the fiercest arrivals will be a pushover.
Not sure if his name really is Fluffy, we were not introduced. The guard dog just glared at me through the door’s window, thankfully reinforced, in between fits of frenzied, fang-flashing rage.
Like most wildlife carers, Caroline started as an amateur, operating out of the back garden of her semi-detached home. Back in the early 1980s there were sanctuaries for cats and dogs, even farm animals, but nothing for wildlife. Individuals took in the waifs and strays of the hedgerow, nursing them back to health before sending them on their way, but it was haphazard; no one had this as a job. And that is important. Caroline soon found that if you let the local police and RSPCA know you take in wild animals, the word gets out. And then the local press will pick up on the story, because it is easy to get good copy from wildlife carers. So more people come to you with the animals they find, and what do you do? Turn away patients because you have to go out to earn a living? Or start at least trying to cover your costs by getting donations? Before long you become a charity, and while your head has been down as you remove fly eggs from a damaged hedgehog, the world shifts and, when you look up, you find this has become your life.
With absolute determination Caroline has built a mini-empire, from kitchen-sink operations to an operating theatre. From one tawny owl to 5,000 animals a year in a purpose-built hospital near Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire.
‘When I started this I would have laughed at the idea I would be managing ten staff and running a hospital in twenty-three years’ time.’ She has also managed to raise a family, somehow. ‘Three kids, animals are much easier, they have all flown the nest, and so has my husband. He gave me an ultimatum, either the animals go or he goes. Took me a good thirty seconds to think that one through. So here I am, and I don’t regret it in the slightest.’
What got Caroline fired up was hearing so often that people would leave an injured animal ‘to let nature take its course’. Still she flares at the thought. ‘How could it be left to nature when most of the problems are caused by people?’ So that is what drove her to make this massive commitment, raising money, cajoling local businesses and spreading the word.
One of the most important tasks, though, is to develop a good and trusting relationship with a vet. Many carers struggle because of the difficulty of finding a vet who is suitably enthusiastic. Certainly this is something that Caroline found. ‘When we began, attitudes were totally different and we were just regarded as animal “nutters” wasting our time on wildlife.’ But attitudes have changed and now she has an excellent relationship with one vet in particular who steps in to do those things she and her staff cannot manage.
But it is a two-way relationship. Now vets from around the country contact Caroline to get advice on how to treat the wild animals they have encountered. The expertise at Vale is such that much of the work is done by the staff now – and thanks to the fund-raising, most equipment is on-site, saving animals a stressful journey to the vet, just leaving the vet with a stressful journey to them, and Fluffy.
The centre is constantly busy. Like a human hospital, staff have to be on hand twenty-four hours a day, every day. Casualties can, and do, appear at any time; cleaning, feeding and medicating the patients form a constant round. During early summer baby hedgehogs from disturbed nests can threaten to flood the system, as they require feeding every two hours.
Why does she do it? It is not as if she ever gets any gratitude from the wildlife. ‘But when you release an animal you know you are doing the right thing, even though it is just a drop in the ocean.’
Caroline is not sentimental about her charges and has learned the hard way that it is often better to euthanize earlier than later. There are animals that she would once have kept alive that she will now kill on arrival: ‘I know other centres disagree, but I believe that wildlife has no quality of life in captivity. I will work on an animal for days, weeks or months if I think it can go back into the wild.’
Even her very first charge, the one-winged tawny owl, would not have escaped this more severe attitude. It would have been put down straight away.
The same goes for hedgehogs. Many centres will release three-legged hogs back into the wild, as long as it is a rear leg that’s missing (without the front leg they cannot feed, so they cannot be released). But as recently as last year Caroline has changed the policy at Vale: ‘We began to notice that three-legged hedgehogs were coming in with parasites congregating on the side with the missing leg, mainly ticks that they were not able to remove by scratching. So now we euthanize them as well.’
Hedgehogs are the most common mammal, but Caroline is worried that she has been seeing fewer brought in. This is evidence of a real decline, as there are more people interested in the hospital bringing in other species, so it’s just that they are finding fewer hedgehogs. She used to get over 1,000 hedgehogs each year; now it is 700 and the trend continues downwards.