I didn’t even see it in the failing light of dusk. Linzay and I had been hiking the steep San-Francisco like hills around Queenstown for most of the day. I was trying to find impossible hidden kiwi house numbers, 12, 13, 40,55.
“I thought those things where only pets!” Linzay squeeked. I stopped counting for exactly long enough to see what she was pointing at. There in the grass, snooping around is this thing-
The feeling was familiar from kicking around Australia. The feeling when you see a colorful parrot, that you are certain is an escapee from the zoo or a rich persons house. It is the striking realization that the animal isn’t out of place but I am.
So there it was, a freaking wild hedgehog in all its fury and glory. Illuminated on the sunset, jagged mountain peak backdrop. Just hanging out sniffing grass. Suddenly, I imagine tourists visiting Canada or Oregon. “Stop the car, stop the car I gotta take a picture of that thing!” They would yell at the guy with the Garmin in the front seat. Zoom lenses would be unleashed in a barrage of clicks from Cannons. A squirrel picking through the grass for nuts is wondering what the big deal is. And then theres me. Taking pictures of freaking hedgehogs.
