"Quills in the Dark" - non-fiction
I sensed it before Maxdid. A rustling in the bushes. A snap of a twig. A muffled crackling sound. Maxlifted his head, assumed his full-alert, ready-to-attack mode, and strained athis leash. A final movement, and then it burst into the open. A porcupine,determined to escape after encountering Max and me in the dark.
It was five in the morning, our forest path lit by the waning moon and ascatter of the night’s last stars. I was leading Max on his pre-dawn walk,necessitated by my having to leave shortly to catch the first train to my jobin Tel Aviv. Max had already done his ‘business’ and we were on the returnjourney, back to the streetlights of civilization leading to my home in oursmall community outside Jerusalem. And then the porcupine came into view.
With the erect quills on its back, the animal was as tall as Max, a mid-sizemixed-breed dog. We see porcupines nearly every morning. Add that to thejackals and wild boars we meet from time to time, a bounty of wildlife in theforested hills near my home rarely seen in daylight. I may be crazy for walkingmy dog in the pitch-black hours, but these unexpected encounters in naturefascinate me. And they thrill Max as well.
I know to stay clear of porcupines; they can attack when threatened. Severalmonths ago, a man in northern Israel nearly lost his life after being stabbedin his arms and legs with 41 quills. Porcupines are Israel’s largest rodent anduse their quills in defense. They don’t actually shoot them, I’ve learned, butit’s best to stay as far away as possible.
There’s another reason the presence of porcupines irks me. I recently planted asmall vegetable patch in my backyard, and had already harvested cucumbers, withtomatoes soon to follow. At summer’s end, I was excited to plant my firstlettuce seedlings, but overnight, they were eaten down to their tiny stems.Basel and flowers also lost their leaves, and I assumed nocturnal porcupineswere the culprits responsible for the damage.
Today’s porcupine ran off into the brush, sending Max into a frenzy of barkingas I tightened my grip on his leash. Before I knew it, the creature hadvanished into the dense thicket of hillside undergrowth as if it had neverbeen. Max and I continued our walk, with him sniffing for traces of theanimal’s scent and occasionally lifting his leg to mark his territory.
More rustling near the path. This time Max saw the porcupine before me. Hestruggled to break loose from his leash, to run down the creature just as hechases the stray cats on our street. Within seconds, it was gone, following thetrail of its partner. Max calmed down, and we headed for home.
Twenty minutes later, I finished my breakfast and filled Max’s water bowl. Hehad enough food to get through the day, and I patted his head before lockingthe front door behind me. My wife would care for him until I returned fromwork, but her walks with the dog would be in bright daylight.
I got into my car and started the motor for the drive to the train station. Iadjusted the mirror and began to pull out of my parking spot when a dash ofmovement caught my eye.
A lone porcupine darted in front of the car, disappearing into the bushes onthe far side of the street. Too bad I didn’t have my phone ready to snap apicture of the wayward animal. No worries. Max and I were bound to meet moreporcupines on our next pre-dawn walk.
Originally published in The Loch Raven Review.
