In the dark shadows where the deepest doth lay, beneath the brambles on a hot summers day, hidden underneath the bails of old hay is a sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May.

A collision of thunder, a pelting of rain, a cool bitter winter stands in the way, snowy covered fields on a icy cold day, but it does not destroy or change the mood today of the sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May.

Enter the spring when the winter has failed, beginning new life with all that’s allowed, soft soil found from trodden old leaves, planting afresh dispersing the seed, yet “what happened to the past?”  You hear some of them say, the hedgehog laughs on still hidden away to the sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May.

Birth starting life every place around, there are lots of baby kits around to be found, a new little owl has fallen to the ground, a feed for a fox teaching her cubs silence, not making a sound. “It’s a wonderful time of year” some would say, except the sweet little creature who’s birthday is in May, sadly fell  asleep and died on this day underneath the bail, of rotten old hay.