Peace.

Harry the Hedgehog.

The rice wine had been fermenting for two weeks. The little room under the stairs was filled
with a fine aroma which the old man sniffed appreciatively. It was time to strain off the exhausted ingredients and bottle the delicious liquid.

He took the soggy rice and plump raisins which were filled with highly alcoholic wine, to a
corner of his garden and dumped them onto the compost heap , wondering if " Cocky " the half
tame pheasant would find them. Smiling at the thought, he returned to his house.

Sometime during the night, Harry the Hedgehog, doing his rounds, found the heap of rice and
raisins . He had been puzzled by the several rats and a polecat that he'd met , all of whom were
staggering around , legs buckling, some giggling and singing to themselves.

Anyway, pushing this to the back of his mind, he tasted a plump, juicy raisin. It had an unusual
taste, pleasant though and moorish. He tucked into this unexpected feast with gusto, a feeling
of elation gradually filling his large prickly body . He sang little songs remembered from his
childhood , taught him by his mother before she was so tragically run over by the back wheel
of a tractor.

The next day, the old man, nursing a headache himself, the result of drinking too much of last
years elderflower wine, found Harry lying flat on his back, apparently dead , arms and legs flung
wide, his white tummy facing the sky. Detecting a weak pulse, he used a stick to roll Harry
into a cardboard box and this he placed in the old smithy , in a cool, dark , dry corner,
together with a dish of water and a tin lid of cat food.

Harry Hedgehog lay comatose for two days before stirring . Opening his eyes carefully, he
looked around. " My god" he said " My head !" and "How did I get here?" He gratefully drank
some water but could not face the cat food and lay for some time trying to remember what had
happened to him , listening to the passing traffic and watching the swirling dust in the beam of
sunlight that poked it's finger through a hole in the roof. The memory of rice and raisins
returned and vowing never to eat them again, Harry wobbled across to and through the weed
choked doorway and began crossing the road. A huge lorry came down the hill and Harry
crossed himself and huddled down . All sixteen wheels missed him and he hurried across to the
safety of a patch of blackberries . "Must be my lucky day" he thought. He said good morning to
an old rat who was sitting holding his head. " Compost heap?" he enquired. The rat didn't answer.