Hugo the Hedgehog at Tiggywinkles
When my friend told me she was planning to go to St. Tiggywinkles to donate the unwanted meat from her freezer, I asked to go along. I've meant to go out there for years now. Tiggywinkles is a wildlife rescue center in Buckinghamshire, named of course for the famous hedgehog in Beatrix Potter's stories—who was named for Potter's real life hedgehog pet, Mrs Tiggy-winkle.
Unfortunately, hedgehogs don't make good pets. They can roam five miles in a night, so obviously they wouldn't enjoy living in a cage, or even a spacious five-bedroom, three-bath house. Plus, they don't take well to toilet training and are deathly intolerant to lactose—so don't give one milk if you come upon one in your garden. They prefer grubs and snails for dinner, which makes them an excellent addition to a garden.
Hugo, as you can see, has a stump instead of a rear leg. He lost it in an accident, likely with a stremmer (a weedwacker, to you Yanks). Tiggywinkles takes in all sorts of rescued wildlife, most brought in or reported by members of the public. They rehabilitate and release into the wild most of their rescues, with as little human contact as possible. That means many of the animals at the centre are not viewable by the public.
The ones who are too damaged to be released are kept permanently at the centre, where they're cared for all their lives. Hugo has several companion hedgehogs for company, including several (including him) who are blind.
My friend's meat would be going to the raptors and foxes and other carnivores, who normally get by on dog food. It's not ideal, and the employee who took the cooler full of meat assured us it would be much enjoyed by the residents there.
Here's a glimpse of the typical residents Tiggywinkle's would have had during a week in August:
And here's another photo of Hugo, curled into a ball:
Hugo in a typical pose.
You can visit Tiggywinkle's online, or in person—but be warned it's hard to find. They can't afford proper signage, but use your sat nav and you should be able to find it, somewhere between Leighton Buzzard and Oxford. (Yes, there is a town named after a scavenger bird. Only in England.)
And if you have any meat in your freezer you don't want, they'd love to have it.
By the way, this is not my first encounter with a hedgehog—you can read about our resident hedgehog here. We haven't seen her in a while, though we no longer have a Hedgehog Alert System.
