Satire | Wholesome

How Hedgehog Got Hooked on Light Entertainment

A woodland tale about membership

I was minding my own business, nibbling the heads off dandelions and celandines, when my friend Rabbit hopped past in kind of a hurry.

“Where are you off to?” I asked.

“They’re putting on a show at the mead, in the fairy circle,” he told me. With his big back foot, he scratched a long silky ear.

“Will there be dancing?” I asked, abandoning my bunch of yellow flowers.

“Yep, and singing,” he told me, twitching his whiskers. “They perform the Eyum show every night. I go when there’s a full moon, because that’s when it’s free to all woodland creatures.

“Sounds good,” I agreed, “I’ll follow, but don’t dash off, remember my little legs.”

Well, the Eyum show was pretty special, it made me laugh and smile. I could hardly wait until the next full moon to see the fairy folk perform it again.

A few days later, when it was getting near dusk, I spied Rabbit and Squirrel hustling through the clearing in the woods where I had been foraging for worms.

“Hold up fellas, why the big hurry?”

Squirrel looked furtive, but he always does. He shifted from paw to paw and stared at me with his boot-black eyes. Rabbit twitched his nose considering, but finally he answered.

“To an Eyum show in the fairy circle, down on the mead,” he looked uncomfortable.

“Great, I’ll join you,” I answered eagerly, plucking off dried leaves that were caught on my spines.

“That’s the trouble Hedgehog,” Rabbit shook his head, “it’s members only.”

“Members only?” I was baffled, “How are you both members?”

“I pay 4 carrots a month,” Rabbit answered.

“I pay in acorns,” Squirrel replied, without disclosing how many.

“What do the fairies get for performing in the show?” Squirrel twitched his tail inquisitively.

“Not much, I don’t think,” Rabbit replied, “I assume they must love to sing and dance.”

“So how many times can you watch the show, now that you’re a member?” I asked.

I was feeling pretty miffed to be missing out. Rabbit explained they could see it every night with full membership.

I felt even more excluded and low when they hastened away to watch the fairies’ entertainment, leaving me to eat grubs and curl up in a ball to sleep. But it made me anticipate even more keenly the next free show the fairies would perform at full moon.

A few weeks later I was picking berries and a blue tit was nearby, pecking blackflies off a silver birch tree. I was startled when Rabbit popped out of his hole.

“Hello, I’m looking forward to the Eyum show tonight,” I told my long-eared friend. “You should come blue tit, it’s very entertaining. There are fairies who dance and sing and …”

“It’s not open to non-members,” Rabbit stopped my enthusiastic chatter.

“But it is, because tonight is the full moon,” I reminded him.

“Ah, the fairy folk have changed the rules,” he expanded. “Now it is a closed show, there are no days when non-members can come and watch it.”

“That’s such a shame,” I tried not to whine. “I was really excited to see all the performances in the Eyum show.”

Rabbit shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

“I could become a member,” I said thoughtfully, “I can pay with these berries I’ve been gathering.” I indicated my pile of succulent fruit and tried to subtract how many I needed to hold back and store over winter.

“Count me out,” the blue tit shook his feathered head, “the fairy show doesn’t sound all that special and to survive the cold, I need to eat everything I forage.”

“It IS excellent,” I told him, “a magical show.”

But because he’d never seen it before, blue tit wasn’t tempted in the slightest to bargain for membership.

“If you still want to join, follow me to the mead,” Rabbit told me. “I’ll get half a carrot back for referring you.”

So I waddled behind him as he hopped to the mead, and after I settled up for membership, we watched the Eyum show.

I laughed and clapped as I enjoyed the musical numbers, which I know my friend the blue tit would have appreciated. But I understood why he wouldn’t pay to become a member to watch a show he’d never seen. It was only when I’d been able to sample the benefits that I was convinced to hand over my precious haul of berries in exchange for membership.

Talking hedgehogs and rabbits are very nice, but you must be wondering what I’m alluding to with my woodland tale.

• No creature would be trusting enough to buy membership to watch the mead Eyum show if they hadn’t already sampled it, giving them insight that they would enjoy it.
• The folk who curate the mead Eyum show can, and do, change the rules at the drop of the hat.
• The performers in the mead Eyum show are expected to do it for the love, because the rewards are minimal.

So I’ll go back to foraging for worms and berries, and continue to enjoy the performance of others in the mead Eyum show. But the audience is likely to dwindle, and I have no expectation that any of us involved will get rich or fat from the entertainment.

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