A week ago, I went outside and opened the gardening container, where the tools are kept, to be greeted by a hedgehog. He [or she] was standing at the front as if I was an expected visitor. So in my usual, anthropomorphic way, I addressed the creature and asked him what on Earth he was doing in there, receiving no answer, of course. After a moment, the hedgehog made an attempt to turn and retreat behind a spade, prompting me to withdraw around the corner of the container. I found some gloves and a woolly hat, placed the hat over him and lifted him out. He curled up inside the hat and I took him down the garden to our wild area, where there is a pile of logs and leaves, placing him carefully down there.

It was a few minutes before he uncurled. Then he turned and began to come back. ‘No. no, no!’ I said. I left for a moment and collected some bird nuts, which he tucked into with gusto. I was about to leave him when a high-pitched ‘pseep, pseep’ made me look round. Two, pink, fluffy long-tailed tits were perched behind me on the rose arch, near enough to touch. I froze in situ until they hopped into the cherry tree. Goodness!

Our intrepid hedgehog, having had his fill of bird nuts, came forward and lapped some moisture from a leaf before seeking refuge in the log pile at last.

If hedgehogs are out and about during the daytime, it means they’re in a spot of bother. I’ve no idea how long this one had been confined to the garden container- days perhaps- but there is nothing to eat in there. He must have sought warmth and shelter while it was open and nobody had noticed, then got very hungry, hence his needing to exit when the doors were open.

Close encounters with garden wildlife are a privilege and a pleasure. They are also a sign that spring is on its way at last, after a harsh and extremely wet winter here in the south west of the UK.

A few days later, Husband summons me downstairs where a black triangle is adhering to a curtain. The black triangle is a closed pair of wings and belongs to a peacock butterfly. It’s anyone’s guess how a butterfly would be here in the house so early in the year, but we know that Spring is arriving ever earlier now.

Detaching the butterfly from its chosen spot without damaging it is tricky. Once separated, it stays on my hand and needs coaxing to climb on to a crocus flower. Watching its spindly proboscis unfurl and reach into the orange centre of the crocus is fascinating, but while Husband goes to fetch the camera the butterfly, having sucked in enough nourishment, spreads its wings and makes a sudden leap into the air, grazing my hair en route.

Sadly, then, none of these meetings with garden wildlife were to be recorded on camera. So the photos are of their habitats and surroundings instead!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com