8. Hedgehog

Hedgehogs belong to the hours when most of us have gone indoors. They wait for dusk, then shuffle out on their short legs, snuffling through the grass for beetles, worms, slugs and fallen fruit. Their eyesight isn’t strong, but their sense of smell and hearing are excellent — good tools for a life lived in the dark.

They cover surprising distances each night, sometimes more than a kilometre, following familiar routes between gardens, fields and hedgerows. Small gaps in fences and under gates are their highways, keeping the landscape connected for them. The gentle rustle they make as they move is one of the quiet sounds of a healthy countryside.

By autumn they’re focused on building fat reserves and finding a sheltered spot to hibernate. Piles of leaves, log heaps and compost corners are all fair game. When temperatures drop, they curl into a tight ball, heart rate slowing to a whisper, sleeping through the cold months until the nights warm again.

They’re mostly solitary, meeting only to mate, and even then briefly. But in the dark they’re busy, practical creatures — eating pests, spreading seeds, and keeping the small balance of things ticking over.

When I think of the night, I often think of hedgehogs: cautious but determined, quietly going about their work while the rest of the world dreams. Their lives remind me that the dark isn’t wasted time. It’s a shift change — the hour when the night’s own caretakers come out to tidy up the day.