As winter approaches, I shudder and wonder if there is any way I can get rid of porcupines.  It seems hopeless for me.  I’ve watched them throughout the spring and summer, the large ugly rodents rooting around, eating whatever they can find.  They’ve eaten away most of the vegetation now, and there aren’t many choices left now that winter is coming. 

            Night is beginning to fall, stars are just starting to peep out, and life is quiet here.  The breeze washes over me.  It’s colder now and I shudder slightly.  I try to enjoy the solitude, the peace, the changing of the seasons.  I remember the summer:  children playing, picnics, tire swings, birds nesting, the warm sun and delicious rain.  But I can’t stop thinking about those monsters roaming around, free as they please, hungry, always hungry, gnawing, ever chewing.  They are a danger to dogs, cats, over-curious children, but so often they forget how dangerous they are to me.  Again, I try to forget about my fears and remember the beautiful times.

            I began to relax ever so slightly, when my nightmare with beady black eyes appears before me.  The breeze plays along its quills and it lifts its nose, snuffling a little in the evening air.  My mind races and I can’t move.  How can I possibly get rid of this porcupine?  In my terror, I cannot think, and I am helpless, frozen and rooted to the spot as it shuffles toward me.  It touches me, and I almost lose all consciousness.  But, I am just not that lucky.

            It circles me and then faces me, baring its teeth.  Each long tooth gleams in the first rays of moonlight.  Those awful teeth never stop growing, making the creature desperate to gnaw on my flesh.  I am horrified as it leans towards me and slides its teeth into my skin.  It chews and tears and rips it away, piece by piece.  I am powerless, and each minute is an eternity of terror.

            Strong claws grip into me, and it climbs even higher up onto me.  It reaches a tender limb and slices it cleanly off.  I desperately try not to think of slow death as disease enters into the stump of a limb.  Strip by strip, limb by limb, the porcupine chews, gnaws and slices pieces off of me.  Minutes are hours in my pain, but finally it climbs down off of me and waddles away in search of food.  It is satisfied and hungry.  I quake with what is left of me.  I have a long winter ahead of me, and I can only pray that some human will get rid of the porcupines and let me rest in peace.