REBECCA BAIRD: I said goodbye to my garden hedgehog – then I put him in the bin

It would be ridiculous to have a funeral for a wild hedgehog. Right?

This is what I’m asking myself as I stand in the grass, boots on over bedsocks and pyjama bottoms, armed with Marigolds and two compostable plastic bags.

It’s a grim start to a day. There’s been a murder in Dundee.

I was alerted to the casualty by two stark, squawking magpies pecking away at the poor wee beastie.

At first I couldn’t see what they were fighting over.

Then my heart sank when the birds flapped away to reveal their prize. I saw the hedgehog’s spiky wee back and a bloom of red, and I wanted to cry.

Poor wee hedgehog.

The small delight of a resident hedgehog

I know this hedgehog. He lives – lived – in the shared garden out the back, snuffling away under the rosebush and rotten shed.

The first time I saw him was early this year. My partner was outside for a smoke break when he spotted a spiny shape ambling in the dark grass.

“Come down! There’s a hedgehog!” flashed up on my phone and you best believe I cantered down those stairs.

We watched him for ages, going about his hoggy business.

There was something so contented about him (in my head he’s a him – a distinguished older gentleman with a walking stick and waistcoat), wandering about on his happy lonesome.

After that, I looked out for him, and often heard him rustling in the undergrowth next to our seating area. Not a pet, but a wee pal. A neighbour.

Now he’s dead on the lawn, mauled by what I can only image was the neighbourhood fox, or a cat with very big teeth. I’ll spare you the visuals. Circle of life and all that.

And as well as being sad, this poses me a problem: what do I do with a dead hedgehog?

What to do when you find a dead hedgehog

I’m reluctant to leave him, as hedgehogs can carry diseases and parasites which I don’t want the neighbourhood kids or cats to mess with.

A quick Google search tells me I have a few options:

• Submit the carcass to Garden Wildlife Health for examination.
• Call up the vet to see if they’ll cremate the hedgehog.
• Bury it.
• Double bag it and put it in the general waste bin.

The former three are preferable – more dignified, I think. But I don’t have time to take him anywhere before work, never mind bury him. I don’t even have a shovel.

All of which brings me here, now, gloved and looming over the corpse of my little neighbour.

It feels unceremonious, tucking a Co-op bag underneath the wee man’s still-warm spikes and wrapping him up in it. But I try to put a wee bit of ceremony into it anyway.

I say a few words, to no one in particular, about the hedgehog. His happy hogging about. His untimely and grisly end.

Then I walk him round the front and lay him gently atop the black bags in the communal bin. I shed a tear for the hog.

It’s silly, I know, to be so sentimental. Wild animals die all the time, and keeping the bin lid open won’t bring him back.

But I’m not the only one with a soft spot for hedgehogs.

Hedgehogs are public’s favourite – but they are suffering

The hedgehog is the UK’s favourite mammal, with more Google searches and Instagram hashtags than otters, red squirrels, seals or deer.

People have even been moved to set up rescue centres and sanctuaries across Tayside and Fife for the wee snufflers.

Mrs Tiggy-Winkle has a lot to answer for, I’m sure.

So if we all profess to love these little creatures so much, why are they on the red list of vulnerable species in the UK?

Hedgehogs have existed on this island for at least half a million years, but their sharp decline in the last century means they might not be here forever.

More roads, fewer hedgerows, increased use of pesticides and a changing climate have all contributed to the decimation of our hedgehog population.

Everyone I know has so much to think about in a day, it’s not like we’ve all got bags of time to spare a thought for the hedgehogs.

But putting out water bowls or some pet food at dusk, cutting out doorways in fences to allow them safe passage through gardens, or building a little hedgehog hut, can help these funny little ramblers survive in the world we’ve created.

We can’t save them from foxes, but we can be a friend to our hoggy neighbours.

After all, there’s really no dignity in a hedgehog funeral.