Hedgehogs are struggling — here’s how your garden can help them tonight

Here’s the quiet crisis at the bottom of your garden: hedgehogs are slipping away, and the fix starts a few feet from your back door—tonight.

You hear the soft snuffle first, then the tiny scritch of feet over paving that still holds the day’s warmth. The cat freezes. The solar lights do their faint show-and-tell. For half a minute, everything breathes a little slower.

Then a car somewhere, a door, a laugh, and the hedgehog tucks itself smaller, searching for an opening that isn’t there. No gap in the fence. No way through the gravel to next door’s insect bonanza. Just our tidy lives, sealed at the edges. The hedgehog vanishes into a border that smells of slug pellets and rosemary.

We think wildlife belongs to wild places. It doesn’t. It belongs here, in this messy, human world. It needs you tonight.

Why hedgehogs are struggling in the places we live

Hedgehogs have been fading from British life at a pace you can feel if you listen: fewer midnight rustles, less sweet chaos in flowerbeds, more silence where there should be polite clatter. In rural areas, populations have crashed over recent decades as hedgerows were lost and fields became simpler, harder. Towns and suburbs have been a softer landing, but even there the welcome is thin when gardens are boxed and hardscaped.

Picture a hedgehog trying to cross a street of perfect lawns. Every fence sealed. Every border edged. One garden might hold beetles and worms, the next a bowl of water, the one after that a shed with dry leaves and safety. Without a small hole between them, those resources may as well be miles apart. That’s how a good neighbourhood becomes a trap: food in one place, nesting in another, hazards everywhere in between.

It’s not just fences. Pesticides shrink the dinner menu. Netting tangles. Shears and strimmers cut where animals curl up to rest. Bright lights flatten the night that hedgehogs depend on to move unseen. We’ve made our patches efficient for us and unknowable for them. The fix is not a total rethink of your life. It’s a few simple changes that add up street by street.

What you can do tonight (and tomorrow) in your garden

Start with a drink and a doorway. Put a shallow dish of fresh water near cover, not in the open. If you can, add a second low dish of meaty wet cat or dog food—no milk, ever. Then make a hedgehog highway: a gap at the base of your fence about 13cm square, just enough for a prickly commuter to pass through and find the next safe stop. A single hole can connect a whole block, like a secret tube line after dark.

Lights down, machines off. Hedgehogs are night-shy and slow; bright security lamps pin them in place, robot mowers and late-night strimming can be lethal. Before you light a bonfire, rebuild it on the day or check inside—leaf piles and log stacks are winter beds, not rubbish. Cover drains. Lift netting off the ground so nothing gets snagged. Let a corner go a little wild with leaves and sticks where bugs breed and hedgehogs nap.

Don’t chase perfect; aim for passable and friendly. If you feed, keep it simple and regular rather than a feast once a fortnight. *Let’s be honest: nobody does that every day.* If you’ve got dogs, bring them in after dusk or keep the patio light low and the dog on a lead for one last loop. Ask your neighbour to cut a matching fence gap—two holes make a corridor, three make a network.

“Think of your garden as one room in a giant, communal hedgehog hotel. A little water, a way through, and a quiet corner can turn an empty postcode into a liveable neighbourhood.”

• Water dish tonight; clean and refill tomorrow.
• 13cm x 13cm fence hole, marked so no one plugs it later.
• Food: meaty wet cat/dog food, not fish flavour, no milk.
• Lights dimmed or on motion sensors, pointed down.
• Check piles, logs and long grass before cutting or burning.

https://youtu.be/kcAXsjRUg60

Small habits that stack up across a street

Feed the ground life that feeds the hedgehog. Skip the slug pellets and let the night crew do the work—hedgehogs, frogs, beetles. If you need backup, go for wildlife-safe ferric phosphate instead of older formulas that poison more than slugs. Leave a strip of lawn long, even a metre-wide edge, and toss in fallen leaves; it’s a buffet line underfoot.

Water makes a pocket world. A pond is brilliant if you add a simple escape ramp—an old plank wrapped in chicken wire works. No pond? A buried washing-up bowl with stones around the edge brings in insects, then hedgehogs. Trim the lip so it’s easy to climb out. Keep at least one dark path across the garden—hedgehogs choose cover over open ground every time.

Talk to your street like you would about a new bin day. Pop a note on the WhatsApp group asking for three more fence holes, a shared “hedgehog lane” along the back, and lights that go soft after midnight. On bonfire night, make a pact: rebuild stacks on the day, check, then light. One person’s tiny habit becomes a chain reaction when five houses join in.

There’s also the empathy bit, the thing that gets you off the sofa. On a wet Tuesday, you hear a startled hiss by the shed and feel that jolt of recognition—this small, ancient animal is trying to make a life where we have clipped and paved and safe-proofed everything. On a dry Friday, you tip fresh water into a dish and smile when the camera trap later shows a midnight visitor tiptoeing in. We’ve all had that moment where a wild face looks back and the garden suddenly feels bigger.

Numbers are part of the story. Surveys over the last two decades show hedgehog declines in the countryside, with some urban areas seeing shoots of recovery where people make room. Connectivity is the magic word. A 13cm gap in ten fences can unlock dozens of gardens, hundreds of beetle-rich borders, and a free-flowing map that hedgehogs read with their noses. Quietly, over weeks, the night begins to move again.

If you do one thing before bed, make it water and a way through. It’s simple, fast, and it changes a hedgehog’s odds by sunrise. Tidy is nice for photos; messy is kinder for life. Leave the leaves. Pause before you cut. Keep an eye out for that neat little loaf of spikes resting where your mower would wander. **Tiny habits, repeated, beat grand gestures that never happen.** Soyons honnêtes : personne ne fait vraiment ça tous les jours.

What this could become if we stick with it

Imagine your street as a chain of small safeties: a hundred metres of gaps, bowls, shadows and leaf-soft corners. You won’t see crowds of hedgehogs like a cartoon parade. You’ll hear a different night—more snuffling, less stillness. A prickled shape passing calmly under the fence, a youngster in late summer testing the world, an adult carrying the day’s miles in its stride. That’s the quiet return you helped start.

FAQ :

• Can hedgehogs drink milk?No. Milk causes digestive upset. Offer fresh water instead.
• What should I feed them?Meaty wet cat or dog food, or a specialist hedgehog biscuit. Avoid fish flavours and sugary treats.
• How big should a fence hole be?About 13cm by 13cm. Mark it so future owners don’t block it.
• Are slug pellets safe?Avoid older metaldehyde products. If you must, use ferric phosphate and go light—better yet, let predators do the job.
• What if I find a small hedgehog in winter?If it looks underweight, out in the day, cold, or injured, place it in a high-sided box with a towel, keep it warm, offer water and call a local rescue.