I used to have a captive colony of porcupines. One day we brought in a new guy. His name was Arty and he was scared. Every day for two weeks, I’d try to coax him out of his little hut with an apple or carrot, but he wouldn’t budge. One day, I walked through his enclosure toward another porcupine’s habitat, apples and carrots in hand. As I walked down the hill, I heard a quick thump-thump-thump-thump behind me.
Thump-thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump-thump.
The noise got louder and faster, and my brain slowly processed what was happening. I turned around to be sure. Just as I thought, Arty, the timid little porcupine, was chasing me down.
What did I do?
I ran. Apples and carrots in hand, I ran down the hill, chancing a quick glance over my shoulder. Arty was gaining ground. I dodged left and ran back up the hill, hurdling a log blocking the path. Then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I stopped. I had no idea why this porcupine was chasing me or what he thought he’d do, but I felt silly running from him. I turned in time to see him run up the log and launch himself off the end. I jumped back from the shock of seeing a porcupine soaring through air toward my head, an apple falling from my grasp. When Arty landed at my feet, he crawled after the apple, picked it up and started eating.
From that day on, Arty has been a friendly porcupine.
And I have felt like a complete idiot for running from him.
