Ever since I maligned them terribly in one of my books (The Tigers of Taboo Valley) by casting them as villainous terrorists out to exterminate tigers, I’ve felt a bit bad about it, and apologise for hurting any prickly sentiments. But to make up, somewhat, I did give them sweet names such as Col. ‘Cuddles’ Khujlimal — he was an Indian crested porcupine, leader of the dreaded Al Seekh Kebab Atankvaad Andolan. You may cuddle porcupines at your own risk, but tigers, leopards, wolves and hyenas are amongst their number one enemies for one reason: they like eating them. Porcupines protect themselves from becoming dinner by reversing at full speed into the faces of their attackers — sometimes blinding and laming them. Occasionally, porcupines injure them so badly that all they can hunt thereafter are humans — the easiest prey to kill. Thus are born some terrible pain-crazed man-eaters. However, let’s get one thing straight: porcupines (even American ones, which may be armed with up to 30,000 quills) do not shoot their quills at their victims. Porcupines just back into their victims/enemies at top speed, impaling them with dreadfully barbed quills and take off after. The quills stick inside their victims, turning them into pincushions as the porcupine scoots. There’s one more thing in the rodent’s defence: they first give fair warning about what’s to come. Long quills (brown or black, usually 30 cm long) on the neck and shoulder are attached to muscles under the skin, and become erect when a threat looms, to make the porcupine look larger and scarier. Hollow, whitish quills at the base of the tail are rattled as a warning: so the porcupine gives you both a visual and an aural warning (it also growls and grunts) before attacking. The back and rump are equipped with stabbing quills which do the damage. Quills, which are made of keratin, are modified hairs. They are soft and pliable at the time of birth, so as not to add to the agony of the mother’s labour pains. But they harden soon after birth. Porcupines, which are rodents — the third largest after the capybara and the beaver — are found nearly all over the world. The Indian crested porcupine (Hystrix indica) is a heavily built (18 kg), ponderous, rather myopic, nocturnal creature that needs to forage seven hours a night on roots, tubers, vegetable matter, fruit, small insects and vertebrates, augmenting its calcium and mineral intake (to strengthen its quills) by chewing on small bones. Armed with sharp chisel-like incisors, broad feet and long claws, it can play havoc in farmers’ fields with its heavy duty JCB-like nocturnal excavations. But it does spread seeds and pollen too, balancing things out somewhat. It is easy to hunt and is killed for its meat and quills, which are put to various uses, from mumbo-jumbo medicinal concoctions to hair accessories. Though not officially endangered, and of “least concern”, it is said that porcupine numbers are declining by as much as 10 per cent per year, and annual tribal hunts (in places like Assam) account for hundreds of victims. Porcupines bring up their young in underground chambers dug deep and safe, or in caves and hollows — and have a wonderful family life. Between two and four babies are born around November after a gestation period of around 240 days. The happy nuclear family stays together for two years, until the babies are independent. The parents are monogamous and pair for life. Getting intimate and cuddly must be a prickly, tricky business, you would imagine. You’d think that the partners would want to keep physical contact to the bare minimum. But wait, I was delighted to discover that, apparently, unlike most animals who only come together when the female is in season, porcupines deliriously make love throughout the year. It’s said they do it to bond better (well, what other reason would there be?) and keep the family intact. It really was refreshing to learn that even such an obviously well-armed, “stay-away-from-me” type creature loves getting up close and personal and cosy. And even better to think of all the quills an ardent member of the moral killjoy brigade is likely to receive if he tries to interfere with a pair thus caught in a “compromising position”. There’s certainly some lesson in there for us.
